What We Deserve
by ToryTigress92
Summary: AU after Death in Heaven. The Doctor refused to kill the Mistress and now all three are stuck in an uneasy truce as they travel between universes in the search for Gallifrey. As Clara mourns, the Doctor and Missy begin a new game. Can Clara avoid being sucked into this millennia-old battle, and what surprises lie in wait if she fails? Twissy/Whouffaldi/Clara x Missy x the Doctor.
1. Keep Your Friends Close

AU!Series 9: What We Deserve

_**Warnings: dark themes, violence, torture, m/f, f/f & m/f/f relationships, explicit scenes.**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did…damn you, Moffat!**_

_**Summary: Wherein Clara hears voices in her head and the Doctor and the Mistress begin a new game.**_

_**A/N: I've posted this on my Tumblr but for ease of publishing, I thought I'd publish here too. **_

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><p>Clara stood in the graveyard, still staring up at the sky, eyes still straining for one last glance, one last flash of silver in the sunlight. But there was none.<p>

Behind her, she could sense the Doctor and Missy, sense the pair standing close by, one in defeat, one in…but no. The Doctor hadn't triumphed, not this time. The triumph, if you could call it that, was Danny's.

Clara's eyes closed, holding back the bitter sting of tears. _Oh, Danny…_

The words she'd thrown at him before she knew he was Danny pricked her anew. No wonder he'd levelled his gun at her head. All this time, and he finally knew she'd lied to him for so long. It wasn't the way she'd wanted to tell him, it wasn't what she'd planned at all. Missy had seen to that.

Clara's fists clenched hard, as the pressure in her eyes built and built, but she refused to let it free. Not here, not now.

She felt a hand on her shoulder. There was no way it would be…_her_. No, she knew that hand, that grip. As affection-averse as he was, she recognised that hand.

"Hey," he murmured softly. "Clara…"

She didn't want to hear it. "Finished with your girlfriend yet?" she cut him off bitterly, her voice cold. His hand tightened on her shoulder.

"She's not my girlfriend," he replied curtly. "Look, Clara. You've just lost the man you love. You're angry, and devastated, and a thousand different messy, tearing emotions-"

"You're right," she murmured softly. "I am angry."

Her hand closed around the device in her pocket, cold and intricately moulded. The Doctor had thrown it away. She'd snatched it up without even thinking. But if it belonged to _her_, it had to be a weapon. If it was a weapon…

She swung to face the one who had torn her life apart. She turned her back on the Doctor, and raised her arm, looking at their enemy for the first time with open eyes. Before, she'd paid barely any attention, too focused on Danny to really care about what she'd thought was a robot. But now…

She looked so…ordinary, for it all. Despite the well-tailored Edwardian getup, she was ordinary. Beautiful in a hard, icy way, with long dark curls pinned up, a few loose strands dancing in the breeze. Spiked bracelets on her wrists. Red lipstick and blue-grey eye shadow. All so ordinary until she got to the eyes.

Those eyes…full of a kind of feral insanity, dancing with amusement and cruelty. Blue eyes not unlike the Doctor's, with the same calculating intellect behind them. But where the Doctor's differed, they were full of warmth and sparkling curiosity, even as apparently phobic about touch and physical affection as he was. But hers…there was no warmth, no curiosity, just icy indifference and contempt. She'd judged the universe around her and found it wanting. No humanity, no mercy.

Just power and insanity and lingering pain. They almost sucked Clara in, stealing her breath, as used as she'd got used to reading the Doctor's eyes, hypnotising her effortlessly. She was watching her intently, her gaze as scrutinising as Clara's own. Judging her, almost _daring _her. The device in her hand trembled, but she didn't lower it.

"Clara…" he breathed, pleadingly. "Don't do this. Don't become this."

"Why, because she's your friend?" she demanded angrily, her other fist shaking violently. "Because she's a Time Lady?"

She sensed him glance at her, and then at Missy, obviously shaken and uncertain what to do. Clara knew he had the strength to disarm her, but that just wasn't his style.

The Mistress had been silent throughout Clara's words, but her eyes crinkled at the corners as her mouth lifted into a sly, triumphant smile. "Because I know where Gallifrey is," she declared, her voice ringing across the graveyard. "Because, if you kill me, Clara, you will destroy any chance of the Doctor finding home. Are you really that cruel?"

"Maybe I am," Clara replied forcefully. Missy's lips quirked sardonically, as her eyes glinted in the newly revealed sunlight.

"No, you're not," the Doctor interjected forcefully, putting himself squarely between Clara and Missy. His eyes were fierce as he stared down at her, his eyebrows slanted downwards in an angry rictus. Clara looked up at him defiantly. "This is not you."

"I don't know who I am anymore," she confessed quietly, the Doctor seemingly turned to stone between Clara and the Mistress.

"We could go together," Missy suddenly spoke, as the Doctor spun to face her. "You and me, just like the old days."

"You'd be clapped in irons," he replied, clearly incredulous. Clara watched them, dispassionately.

"If you like," Missy said.

"Doctor," Clara began, just as quiet and firm as the woman standing on the other side of the Doctor. "If you have ever let this creature live, then everything that happened today is on you, all of it, on _you_. And you're not going to let her live again. Now move aside."

"NO!" the Doctor snapped, making Clara jump. It shocked her as the words she'd just spoken registered, breaking through her grief and rage. "Yes, I have let her live before. But just many times, I left her to die. No, I never pulled the trigger, but I believed her dead so many times. And maybe that makes me a coward…"

"Maybe it does," she interjected, but her hand wavered. The Doctor's eyes darted to it, and he sighed.

"Better a coward. I am not a god, Clara, and neither are you. You don't possess the right to judge me, and you don't have the right to take her life, not now. She's insane, Clara, always has been.

"Oh, hark who's talking," Missy scoffed on the other side of the Doctor. He glared at her for a moment, as she raised her hands in mock-surrender and stepped back. He turned back to Clara entreatingly.

"It wasn't her fault, and it doesn't justify her crimes. But she surrendered. Clara…Danny would not want this," he finished. "He was a soldier, he knew when it is necessary to kill and not to kill."

Clara's hand finally lowered as tears began to trickle down her cheek. "Damn you," she choked. "Damn you, Doctor."

He held out his hand for the device, and she let him have it passively, eyes still fixed on Missy. The other woman did not smile again, or say a word, just held her eyes on Clara almost pityingly. It made Clara want to be sick.

Her stomach lurched for real as she suddenly heard a strange singing in her head, ghostly and sorrowful. Her eyes widened and she tore them away from Missy's gaze, her head aching. She needed to get away.

Without another word, without looking at the two Time Lords, Clara turned and walked away, towards the Tardis.

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><p>The Doctor watched her go. It had never thought it possible for two hearts to break so many times and still remain intact. They had, many times over the millennia of his existence. They did again, in that moment, watching Clara walk away, broken and devastated. He didn't know if the pieces were fixable, and if they were, what form they would take.<p>

"Well-played, darling, well-played," Missy's silken Scottish accents grated on his ears, just then. He swung to face her, slipping her device into his pocket as he walked towards her menacingly.

"I didn't do it for you," he snarled. Her smile only grew.

"Seriously? Oh, Doctor," she whispered, stepping close to him, not in the least bit intimidated by his rage. "To save her soul? Oh what a liar you are. Her soul was lost long ago. She is as capable of killing me as you are not. And who, my dear, will save yours? So many lies, so many deceptions. So many judgements. And you claim you're not a god."

The Doctor fought to ignore the comforting heat of her down his front. Being around humans for so many years, he'd grown accustomed to the scorching heat of their bodies in contrast to the coolness of his own. He'd forgotten the soft warmth of his own kind. Of _her_…

"I spared you for one reason. You surrendered," he growled. "I don't know why, but if you're trying to manipulate me, it will fail. We _will _find Gallifrey, and you _will _face justice for what you did here. I won't let you drag me or Clara down into your insane little world."

"Oh darling," Missy chuckled derisively, as she turned and led the way to the Tardis. The Doctor was relieved to see that Clara was not present. His old girl gave a comforting hum in his mind as he entered, and he hoped she would take care of his Impossible Girl for now. He had other things to attend to.

He was pulled from his rumination by the blaring of music from the console. The strident, aggressive chords grated on his ears for a moment, before he recognised the song. _Highway to Hell_ by ACDC.

Appropriate.

"Have you quite finished appropriating my Tardis!?" he snapped tersely, striding over and slapping her hands away from his console. "I see your penchant for playing your own internal soundtrack hasn't changed."

"And I see your taste in music hasn't either," she retorted. He knew he'd probably liked ACDC in a past body, but this one didn't. And her sarcasm wasn't helping his exceedingly frayed temper. "But it is appropriate, don't you think?" she added, guessing his own thoughts.

He grabbed her, temper finally gone, pressing her back against the Tardis console. She smiled up at him, teeth bared wildly, her eyes dancing with glee.

"Ooh Doctor," she moaned seductively. "I didn't realise this body enjoyed a bit of rough and tumble. How titillating."

He wasn't sure which one of them she was referring to, but he wasn't going to be lulled by that look in her eye. "Stop this now," he snarled, enunciating each word as clearly as he could, so she could be in doubt of what he meant. Her smile just grew wider.

"Oh my darling," she sighed. "I will help you find Gallifrey, but as for the rest…we're just getting started."

Their eyes locked, each glinting with a challenge as they fought for dominance, as they always had, as they always would.

The Doctor broke away first, and Missy's mocking laughter followed him down the corridor.

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><p><em>To be continued…<em>


	2. And Your Enemies Closer

AU!Series 9: What We Deserve

_**Warnings: dark themes, violence, torture, m/f, f/f & m/f/f relationships, explicit scenes.**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did**__**…**__**damn you, Moffat!**_

_**Summary: Wherein the Doctor encounters a problem and Missy and Clara meet again**_

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><p>"You lied to me!" the Doctor snapped, glaring at the doors he'd just closed on awful, <em>empty<em>, black space. Nothing, always nothing. "You said-"

"I said you should go and look at Gallifrey's original co-ordinates," Missy replied, her face a mask of boredom as she inspected her fingernails. "I never said it was back there. Oh damn, chipped my nail polish."

The Doctor clenched his fists against an urge to throttle her, or grab hold of her again. Forcing himself to take a deep breath, he turned to face her, his face a rictus of rage. "Explain."

"Now, now, no need to be rude darling," she replied, haughtily, finally looking up from her nails. "Though I do love it when you get all forceful. If you'd checked your scanner, you'd see that the area possesses extremely high temporal distortion and radiation. Now, we need to collect some data on that radiation so we can work out where we'll need to punch a hole to start our journey."

"Journey? Exactly how many holes did you punch?" he asked, incredulously.

"Nine, or so. Mostly parallel and alternate universes. Oddly enough, I kept landing on Earth," she mused, her eyes thoughtful. She then shrugged. "When I left, I didn't bother planning a return trip, you know. Despite what the High Council intended."

Despite seeing it for the ploy it was, the Doctor was intrigued despite himself. "Why did they send you? What happened to Rassilon?" he asked, folding his arms as he leant against the console.

Missy shrugged again. "After we were thrown into that pocket dimension, there was a coup. Romana was in charge again, last I knew. She couldn't very well leave, not with Gallifrey in such a mess, so they sent me after that debacle on Trenzalore. I suppose, after our last encounter, they thought you might be more inclined to listen to me than before."

The Doctor sighed. It was good to know that Rassilon was contained and Gallifrey back in safe hands, but the painful memory of watching the Master disappear into the Time War, sacrificing himself for him, niggled at his hearts. Even though the Doctor suspected it had been more vengeance than sacrifice, for Rassilon's manipulation of Missy's timeline.

"Why do we need the data on this radiation?" he asked, forcing himself to calm down and lock away his tumultuous feelings for the present. They had work to do.

"When you sent Gallifrey into that pocket universe, it left traces behind in every universe. Traces we can use as a homing signal," she finally deigned to explain. "Once I have the necessary data, I can construct an algorithm to calculate where and when we can create the necessary rifts to travel between the dimensions-"

"Oh, no. I'm not trusting you to do these calculations," he snapped. "We'd probably end up in a black hole."

"Please," Missy scoffed. "Need I remind you, I scored the highest marks in the history of the Academy for mathematics and temporal mechanics. If I recall correctly, you barely scraped through. So yes, you will trust me because I'm the only one on this ship who _**can **_ensure we _**don't **_end up in a black hole. Now, I presume you have a chalkboard I can work on?"

The Doctor laid a hand on the Tardis console, feeling her comforting hum in his mind, soothing him. This latest incarnation of his former friend and nemesis ruffled his feathers as he hadn't done in centuries. It was a distraction they couldn't afford.

He gestured over to the chalkboards on the upper gantry impatiently. "I've got a radiation spectrum analyser around here somewhere," he said. "I'll get the data, you start on the algorithms."

"Isn't this nice? Us working together again. Just like the old days," she called after him, and he forced himself not to stop and stare at her. Because there was a part of him, that even now, even after all she'd done; killing Osgood, killing Kate and all those people on the plane…that was happy. Happy she was there, happy she was with him, that he wasn't alone anymore. It was all very well and good knowing that Gallifrey existed somewhere, but having the physical reality of his success in saving Gallifrey standing beside him, making snide remarks and inappropriately flirtatious comments, was quite another.

Praying he wasn't making a mistake leaving her unguarded in his console room, he turned and left the room, feeling her approval radiating towards him like an intoxicating perfume. Her and her telepathy. Damn nuisance.

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><p>Clara wasn't sure how long it'd been before she emerged from her room. She hadn't been sure if it would still even be there. The Tardis and she had called a truce after she'd jumped into the Doctor's timeline to save his life, but she still wouldn't have put it past the old cow to delete it when she stopped travelling with him so frequently.<p>

A burst of affection for the old cow had pierced the grief when she discovered otherwise. Her room was still there, with a few alterations.

The bed was larger, comfier, with an eiderdown duvet the same colour as the Tardis exterior. The walls had pulsed softly beneath her palm as she'd pressed it, and she was touched to see a pair of her old pyjamas awaiting her on a wing backed armchair, a mug of steaming hot chocolate on the table beside it.

She'd forced herself to drink it, rather risk a cracking headache from dehydration afterwards, but it was a near thing. Exactly five seconds after she'd put the mug back down on the table, the shaking had started and the tears finally came.

She'd swathed herself in her duvet, finally letting herself grieve as her Nan had said she should, finally mourning for Danny. She'd been so sure, so certain she could save him, that the Doctor would save him, that the anger and the certainty had kept her going. Then…in the graveyard, when she'd said those awful things to him, and he'd removed his mask to reveal himself, battered and pulped as he was, but still recognisably _**her **_Danny. She knew then. There was no chance, no hope left. She didn't need vague memories from her echo selves to know there was no coming back from Cyber conversion.

And even then, even locked forever inside a metal suit, he'd been so amazing. Taking the risk he would lose himself to the inhibitor, standing up to Missy, blowing up the clouds…still a soldier to his bones and a good man to his heart.

The Doctor had said that love was not an emotion but a promise. She'd never stop loving him and she would never say those words to anyone again. But after what felt like days, the tears finally dried up for good and she sat up from her ball of misery.

Her mind was clear again, and while she would always carry that grief inside her heart now, she felt in control again. And thirsty. And hungry.

She had to decide what to do. What was left for her now? Go home? Say goodbye to the Doctor?

If she went back, it was to an ordinary life. Her students, her family, her job. And the ghost of Danny. He would be everywhere, tearing her with every moment. No. That way lay madness. She'd probably end up on a psych ward within a year.

So what was the alternative? Stay with the Doctor, forever? But he had Missy onboard now, they were going to find Gallifrey. Could she remain in control while in the presence of the woman who'd ruined her life? Living with her, sharing air with her? Clara wasn't sure, but the utter antipathy which rose up inside her when she thought about going home, for good, made her want to throw up. It might be cowardly, even cruel, but she couldn't go home. No, all she could do now was…run.

Run and keep running. The idea was oddly attractive.

Clara slowly rose from her bed, brushing her lank hair from her tear-stained face. In the ensuite bathroom next door, she heard the shower come on, forcing a reluctant smile to her lips. "Thanks," she murmured to the air, as the Tardis gave a soft _whirr _in response. She stepped into the quickly fogging room, letting her pyjamas drop to the floor. The Tardis would take care of them.

She wiped down the mirror with one hand, staring at the haunted face looking back. She was a mess, whatever makeup she'd been wearing smudged beyond recognition, her hair oily and sticking up in tufts, her eyes glassy from crying for hours, her lips chapped and pitted where she'd bitten down on them in vain attempts to hold in her sobs. It was the face of a broken woman, a person who'd lost everything that mattered to her. Travelling with the Doctor had shown Clara far too many truths about herself. She was brave, compassionate, determined. But she also feared the other truths about herself that had been uncovered. She didn't want to think of them now.

She eyed the woman in the mirror defiantly, and her reflection's chin firmed and her eyes glinted. There was the girl who'd defied Death to save her best friend, a million times over, who'd fought to find a way back to him when he dumped her back home for her own safety, who'd begged for help from his people, who had changed his mind and the course of his own timeline.

It didn't escape her that if she hadn't intervened, then the Doctor would have destroyed Gallifrey and Missy along with it. She would never have created 3W and Danny would never have become a Cyberman. She wouldn't have lost him.

But even in her grief, Clara knew that no one life, no matter how precious, was worth the genocide of an entire species. Danny would have told her that, too.

With a deep breath, she turned away from her reflection and into the shower. As the hot water flowed over her, she let the breath out again, locking away her emotions as her mind whirled. Her choice was fast approaching. She had to decide what to do now.

Leave. Stay. Leave. Stay. Which one?

She imagined the life waiting for her back on Earth. The endless weeks, working, teaching, seeing countless scores of faces passing through her classroom, as fleeting as a second. The months of pity and condolences, filtering off into impatience and confusion as Clara could not move on. The worried phone calls from Dad. The snide remarks from Linda. The pitying gaze of Gran.

She just couldn't do it. As she mechanically washed her hair and body, she came to the realisation she just couldn't do it. She couldn't go home, not now. Maybe it was her who was the coward, then, not the Doctor. She didn't care. She didn't have the heart to care anymore.

As she towelled off, she wondered what to do for clothes. Her dress, tights and coat had disappeared while she was indisposed and she didn't fancy walking naked through the Tardis to the wardrobe. The question was answered for her when she walked out of the bathroom to find a new dress waiting for her on the bed. It was red and short, the hem ending just above the knees. It looked vaguely like something she'd worn in one of her echoes' lives. There were leggings to go with it and her boots waited for her by the bed. She went to a chest of drawers and found fresh underwear waiting for her. That teased another reluctant smile from her.

"Well, I guess I can't get too mad about choosing my underwear for me," she murmured to the ship. "Since we're all girls here. You old cow."

The murmur that came back was distinctly teasing and uncomplimentary, a comforting warmth washing over her. She got dressed quickly and made her way slowly to the kitchen. The Tardis was silent except for the odd murmur now and again, some of her corridors dark. It reminded Clara eerily of the time they'd been stuck in the Tardis with those zombie things, and she shivered, walking faster. She'd lost those memories at first, but her first foray on Trenzalore had restored them.

To her relief, the kitchen was devoid of Time Lords and Ladies, as she made herself tea and toast. It never ceased to amaze her exactly what the old cow was capable of, even in the bare aftermath of her grief. She was almost tempted to cook some eggs, but didn't want to push it. Her stomach was still queasy after three days of crying and no food. She felt vaguely annoyed that the Doctor apparently hadn't come to find her, even just to see if she was alright, but then again he probably had his hands full keeping an eye on Missy.

The Tardis made a sound of protest, and Clara got the impression he had come to her bedroom door but hadn't wanted to intrude on her mourning. She frowned, looking down at her tea contemplatively. Had she wanted him there, while she cried? Her best friend?

There was a part of her that, however unfairly, was glad he hadn't been there. She didn't want him to see her so broken and she didn't want him to be privy to whatever her anger and grief might have motivated her to say. She had enough regrets on her head without add hurting her best friend to the list.

She dawdled in the kitchen, knowing it for what it was. She couldn't skulk in the depths of the Tardis forever. She needed to talk to the Doctor, even if that meant facing Missy again so soon. She had to do it.

Her hands clenched on the rim of the sink, and she sighed. Taking her courage in her hands, reminding herself that in this at least she was no coward, she turned and left the kitchen.

* * *

><p>She found her way unerringly to the console room, guessing that was where they'd be. She took a deep breath to steel her control on her emotions, but when she walked up the gantry stairs to the console, the room was seemingly empty.<p>

There was equipment strewn across the floor, and a cable snaked its way from the console to a bulbous looking machine that was softly _beeping_. Clara took a few careful steps, looking around curiously.

Chalkboards ringed the upper gantry levels, obscuring the bookshelves. They were filled with flowing script and numbers that Clara's subconscious whispered was Gallifreyan translated to Earth alphabets. Probably quicker than drawing that circular lettering that usually filled the console scanner screen.

Clara carefully stepped up to one, raising her fingers to one letter, barely brushing the board. So beautifully crafted and cursive, more delicate than the Doctor's handwriting. She wondered if it was Missy's. It recalled to her mind that strange sound in her head, in the graveyard and as she'd gone into the Tardis. A sound like…singing. A single voice, ghostly, eerie and beautiful. It had sounded…sad. Freed from the pain it had inflicted, Clara could remember that much.

What was it?

Clara was so absorbed in her own thoughts, she didn't hear the sound of bootsteps lightly skipping up onto the main gantry. She didn't see the slow, sly smile stretch across red-painted lips, or the glint of anticipation in icy blue eyes.

She did hear the gently mocking, Scottish accents as they echoed in the silent room around her. "So the control freak comes out of her lair at last."

Clara's hand trembled as she lowered it from the board, and she clenched it into a fist in an attempt to control her emotions. They were burgeoning all over again just at the sound of her voice. She could do this, she would do this. She had no other viable choice.

"Where's the Doctor?" she asked, proud that her voice came out cold and controlled despite her inner turmoil. She turned to face her tormentor, locking her emotions away determinedly. She wouldn't collapse in front of _her_.

She hadn't changed in the three days since Clara had seen her last, she looked the same as before. The same Mary Poppins-esque getup, the same intricately arranged curls, the same cruelly beautiful, hypnotic features. The only difference was the bracelet missing from her left wrist.

It had been obliterated with Danny.

Clara swallowed hard at that realisation, pleased that she hadn't started crying again. She met Missy's gaze steadily, as the Time Lady regarded her intently.

"He's fetching some more equipment from a storeroom, my Clara," she finally replied, in her lilting, husky tones. It made Clara shiver, repulsed at herself.

"Let's get one thing straight," Clara snapped coldly. "I might have to breathe the same air as you, live in the same space as you. You might have some strange hold over the Doctor I don't understand. But I am not _**your **_anything!"

"Bravo, my dear," Missy replied, clapping her hands together delightedly, a girlish laugh emanating from her throat. "A bold statement, but an inaccurate one. You are mine just as much as the Doctor."

Clara finally felt her hold on her emotions snap, but it wasn't grief that fuelled her as she lunged at Missy, one hand reaching for her throat and tightening threateningly. It was rage. "Neither of us belong to you. I could have killed you back in that graveyard," she snarled, inwardly shocked at her own actions. She was shorter than Missy, and weaker as a human, and some part of her brain was screaming at her that Missy was allowing this for some twisted reason, but the rest of her wasn't listening.

"Yesss," Missy hissed, with a cruel smile, her voice unaffected by Clara's grip on her throat. "You could have. You wanted to, sooo badly, didn't you?"

Clara's mouth lifted in an identical vicious grin. "But I _**didn't**_," she retorted. "But don't think I won't, in the future, if you try to harm the Doctor. You've taken enough from me."

She immediately regretted that last statement as Missy's eyes glinted with a new cruelty. She released Missy slowly, restraining a shudder as she felt the coolness of her body underneath her own. Clara had always thought that it was warmth, heat, that was supposed to be seductive. Apparently, ice could attract just as much as fire.

Reeling from that realisation and feeling ready to be sick again, Clara turned away from Missy and walked away with her hands clenched. She needed to get away.

Apparently Missy wasn't going to let her get away so easily. "Incidentally, _**my**_ Clara," she said deliberately. "I have no intention of harming the Doctor. And I took nothing from you, that you hadn't already lost."

Clara froze at that, as the Time Lady continued on with sadistic pleasure. "Danny Pink was killed in a car accident. I had nothing to do with that event. It was useful, it brought you to me much earlier than I'd anticipated. I had originally planned to tip off those silly apes, who like to kid themselves that they're Earth's protectors, and have them bring the Doctor in. Mr. Pink's upload to my Nethersphere was pure chance."

"You still turned him into a Cyberman," Clara replied, refusing to turn and see the scorn in the Time Lady's eyes. If she'd looked, she'd have seen not scorn but reluctant sympathy.

"I used the dead, my Clara. Those who had no more purpose, their timelines extinguished. Technically, I harmed no one," Missy explained softly, as if to a recalcitrant child.

"Except those turned into Cybermen against their will," Clara snapped, freezing as two cold hands, as strong as iron, closed around her arms. They held her firmly, no matter how she tried to break free.

"Hush, my darling," Missy whispered soothingly, her hands trailing down Clara's arms. She could feel her lips at her ear, her voice now turned as hypnotic as her eyes, the coolness of her body now plastered against her back. "My poor, poor Clara. You're only just discovering exactly how far you're willing to go for the ones you love. You've so much potential, for a human. I always knew I'd chosen well, but I never dreamed _**this**_."

"What d'you mean? You didn't choose me!" Clara gasped, wresting herself from her captor's grip and swinging to face her. The Mistress just smiled, positioned a step down on the gantry stairs, her icy eyes shining with madness and anticipation as she ran them over Clara.

"Oh yes, I did. I might even tell you about it some day," she replied softly. "If you're a good girl for your Mistress. But for now, consider this when you think on my actions, those of your precious Doctor and your former swain. You might find them revealing, and then ask yourself: what would you not do for the ones you love?"

"You're insane," Clara hissed derisively. Missy just shrugged.

"Sanity's overrated," she quipped. "Now run along. I'm glad we had this little girl-to-girl talk but I've got a lot of work to do."

And just like that, Missy turned her back on Clara, dismissing her from mind entirely. Clara felt an irrational surge of anger at her dismissal, but she walked away before she lost it entirely. She was shaking, she realised as she walked away, and her emotions were roiling within her. Despite herself, their confrontation had began to spark new questions in Clara's mind, something she suspected the Mistress had intended. But she couldn't help it.

Her thoughts whirling, Clara sought shelter as far away from the console room, and the woman who occupied it, as possible.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	3. Trust Issues

Series 9: What We Deserve

_**Warnings: dark themes, violence, torture, m/f, f/f & m/f/f relationships, explicit scenes.**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did**__**…**__**damn you, Moffat!**_

_**Summary: Wherein the Doctor and Clara reconnect and Missy considers her situation.**_

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><p>Clara wasn't entirely sure where she was. After her little confrontation with Missy, she'd wandered the corridors aimlessly, deeper than she'd ever been before. She'd stumbled across an old, clearly abandoned room of stone, ivy creepers growing haphazardly along crumbling pillars. It was cool and silent, matching Clara's mood as she had sat down on a bench, leant forward and rested her head in her hands.<p>

She tried not to think, to keep her mind away from that encounter in the console room, but she failed. Her mind replayed it over and over again, in excruciating detail. What she'd said was mad, cruel, immoral but also achingly, hatefully…_**right**_. She had almost destroyed the planet, would have gladly stood by while the human race perished from the clouds, and watched with glee as they'd risen again as Cybermen. But she hadn't killed Danny Pink.

The hate in Clara's veins squirmed and boiled. Denied any outlet, it turned painful. She could hate Missy for so many things, but not for the most important thing. And that drained her anger away, as she sighed and rubbed her eyes tiredly.

"Clara?" a voice suddenly called her name softly. The Doctor.

She greeted him with a weary smile over her shoulder, as he cautiously made his way to her side. "Hey," she offered weakly. He sat down beside her, seemingly intent on inspecting his fingernails. "I came looking for you," she offered, needing to break the awkwardness between them.

"I was just fetching something from the storeroom," he nodded. "So…how are you doing?"

"Ok, I guess," she shrugged. "Still feel angry, but I've cried enough for a lifetime. So…what are all those equations for? On the chalkboards in the console room?"

"Ahh," he sighed. "I'm guessing you met her again. I was hoping to keep you two apart until you were feeling a bit better."

Clara frowned. "There's nothing to tell," she murmured. "I hate her for everything she's done, but I'm just going to have to live with her, aren't I?"

"I could take you home," he offered quietly, making Clara freeze. "We're going to find Gallifrey, Clara. It'll be a long trip and I don't know what'll be waiting at the end of it."

"I don't want to go home," she replied firmly, waiting for the objections, the pointed questions about her family, her job, her students, but none came to her relief. "Can I come?" she asked, suddenly feeling a bit presumptuous. He might not even want her to come with him to Gallifrey.

"Of course! I'd love you to come!" he replied, his voice overly cheery but she could detect a note of relief in his tone.

"At least this way, you'll have an ally. Other than the Tardis, I mean," she offered with a slight smile. The Doctor chuckled, before his smile dropped at her next question. "Doctor, who is she? _**What**_ is she, to you?"

"I'm surprised you don't have some idea. Your Gallifreyan echo would likely have known something of her, or him as she was then," he remarked, evasively. Clara furrowed her brows, thinking hard, but her echoes' lives were foggy at best, and the memories of her life as a Time Lady the foggiest of all. She was reminded again of that strange singing, and shivered.

The Doctor glanced at her in concern. "You ok?" he asked, and she nodded.

"Just cold in here," she explained. He nodded, then held out his arms awkwardly, like he wasn't certain what to do with them. She eyed him dubiously. "What are you doing? Are you trying to do the robot dance again?"

"No! Just…come here," he muttered. "You don't get one of these very often, grab it while you can."

Clara smiled as she scooted sideways into the Doctor's embrace "Can't I get a 2-for-1 deal?" she joked, feeling the beat of his two hearts beneath her ear as he chuckled. They sat together in harmony for awhile, neither needing to say a word as Clara basked in his affection. A part of her mind was screaming at her for betraying Danny so quickly, but she could no more resist her Doctor when he gave one of his rare embraces than give him up to an enemy. She might never say the words again, _**that **_promise at least she would keep, but that didn't mean she didn't feel them. Hadn't felt them since the moment they met, when he was young and boyishly handsome, and now when he was grey and distinguished, after everything they'd been through together, it just waxed stronger despite it all.

She felt him sigh, leaning his cheek against her hair. She tensed, knowing that a question was coming, a question she probably wasn't going to like. "Would you have done it?" he asked. Clara felt tempted to feign ignorance, but she knew what he meant.

"I don't know," she lied, glad he couldn't see her face to read the lie. That moment in the graveyard had taught her that she was very capable of killing, or wanting to kill at least. If the Doctor hadn't stopped her, talked her round, she would have done. What that made her, Clara wasn't sure she wanted to know. Ignorance is bliss, after all. "Who is she, Doctor? You didn't answer my question before…"

She felt him inhale deeply at that, as if preparing himself. She felt him shift, then he pressed something cold and hard into her hand. She glanced down and saw Missy's device in her hand, and looked up at him, shocked. He closed her hand over it firmly. "I'll tell you, but it's a long story," he began stiltedly. "I gave you this back, because I trust you, _my _Clara. When I've finished telling you our story, perhaps you'll understand why."

And so the Doctor began his long story with Clara nestled in his arms, against his hearts, as she listened dutifully, her hand clutched around that infernal little device.

* * *

><p>Missy watched them on the scanner. The soft lighting of the console room threw her features into darkness, but anyone watching her would have seen the gentle jealousy and yearning in her icy eyes as she watched her Doctor and her Clara on the screen.<p>

Yes, _**her **_Doctor and _**her **_Clara. The Doctor had been hers ever since they were two little boys on Gallifrey, scared and alone, running through the scarlet fields, never guessing how prescient that had been. Running through fields the colour of blood. Quite poetic in its own way. Foreboding, others might have called it. Their millennia long battles had been one great field of blood. But that bond had never dissipated. It never would.

And Clara had been hers ever since the day she had glimpsed her on a view screen, inside the High Council chambers as they'd watched the fall of Arcadia. She'd been in chains, still in her weakened, ever-dying form, spared only because it was clear Rassilon had failed and the Council had rebelled. And then…_**they **_came.

All four of them. The gnarled warrior, bent by shame of his own necessary ruthlessness, the tall, gangly hero whose hearts burned with love and fire, the boyish man-child with eyes of cold steel. And Clara, so tiny compared to her companions, following behind them as they'd broken out through the bubble. Fierce and righteous and so, so powerful. She had no idea of the power she wielded over the Doctor.

If Missy could wish, it would have been for a tithe of that power. Things would have been so much simpler then, but would she have enjoyed it quite so much? Probably not, she'd never enjoyed things being easy. It was the masochist inside of her.

After that, she'd known _**she **_needed to be the one sent back to their original universe. Once Romana had re-taken control and granted her old body a regeneration, she'd cajoled and manipulated her way into being chosen. When there, it had been child's play to go back into the Doctor's timeline and _**ensure**_ they came together and stayed together. The man who should never be controlled and the control freak, the only woman capable at that moment of convincing the Doctor to find another way. To save Gallifrey rather than burn it. And convinced him, she had. So, so well with those doe eyes filled with tears and round little face creased with grief and revulsion. She'd almost applauded that.

And now she had both of them in her grasp. Both so near and yet so far. The Doctor would always be hers, always locked in this eternal battle for supremacy between them. The same they may not be, but inextricably bound they would always be. But Clara…she had been a pawn but that moment in the graveyard had exposed so much more. So much raw potential that Missy yearned to explore and nurture. If it were possible for a human, Missy might have considered Clara to be not too dissimilar to herself. The same gift for manipulation, the same need for control, one that could so easily be translated to a need to dominate. It was a pity she'd turned down that Emperor's proposal after that Cyberman incident, but then maybe Clara didn't want to control everything and everyone. Just one person in particular.

In that, they certainly shared a kinship.

As Missy regarded her two companions in the screen, curled up together in an embrace that spoke of love and trust, Clara's hand curled around her computer/weapon, she felt a yearning to be included in that embrace. Her brow furrowed as the Tardis hummed around her, unnerved by that odd desire. The Doctor, she could understand. A human girl? Her own pawn? Well, wonders would never cease.

The Doctor would be easiest. Despite his coldness on the plane, she'd glimpsed his deeply buried relief, felt his curiosity and that yearning in his thoughts. He wanted her and he hated her and he loved her. All facts that had been true for thousands of years. A Time Lord's mind could hold such contradictions. Missy's always had, despite how many times she'd tried to kill him. How many times he'd left her to die. It wouldn't take long to push him over the edge and past his own well-earned distrust of her.

Clara, on the other hand…she would be a challenge. The girl was attracted to her, despite herself, but her mind was clouded by hate. But none knew better than Missy that hate and love were but a knife's edge apart. Not opposites but all-too similar. Oh, this was going to be fun…

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	4. Let The Games Begin

AU!Series 9: What We Deserve

_**Warnings: dark themes, violence, torture, m/f, f/f & m/f/f relationships, explicit scenes.**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did**__**…**__**damn you, Moffat!**_

_**Summary: Wherein Missy and Clara clash over chess. **__(And the author attempts Whovian techno babble)._

* * *

><p>Clara watched with a certain amount of disguised amusement, at her two reluctant travelling companions as they worked. Seated on the upper gantry steps, she kept out of the way of the frenetic movements of the two Time Lords, dancing around one another in harmony even as they bickered.<p>

"I told you to connect the dimensional extrapolator to the spatial inverter, _**not **_the co-ordinate calculation matrix! Honestly, no wonder you never get anywhere you want to go," Missy sighed dramatically, snatching the sonic screwdriver from the Doctor's hand. He snatched it right back again with a glare.

"We manage just fine, thank you very much!" he growled, pointing the sonic at something on the console which fizzed and sparked when he fiddled with it. "And I thought you were in charge of not firing us into a black hole! Not meddling with my Tardis console!"

"Your Tardis console wouldn't need meddling with if you'd just upgraded to a Type 60 when you had the chance," Missy sniped back, rolling her eyes as a particularly vicious cloud of sparks suddenly rained down around her. "Oh you're obsolete and you know it, you old heap of junk! And if you burn my hair, I'll rip out your dematerialisation circuit and leave you floating next to a supernova!"

Clara couldn't quite hold back a giggle at that one. It seemed she wasn't the only one the Tardis took exception to. To be fair, Missy _**had **_apparently once stolen her and butchered her innards to become something called a Paradox Machine. She had some cause for dislike, at least.

"Hey! Stop insulting her and she might not rain down sparks on your precious hair every few minutes," the Doctor replied snidely, receiving a sharp slap on the arm from his fellow Time Lord.

"I wouldn't need to insult her if you actually knew what you were doing!" she retorted with a teasing grin, twirling away from the Doctor with a flourish. Clara's eyes met hers, and as always, she refused to look away.

For the past week, they'd all cohabited in a kind of wary, uneasy truce. The Doctor spent their time working and sniping at one another, while Clara watched them both. Missy liked blaring random choices of music from the console every minute of the day, and the Doctor just sighed and looked pained. The chalkboards had increased from three to ten; all filled to the edges with mathematical equations that Clara suspected even Danny wouldn't have had a clue about.

The thought of him sent a pang through her, as it always did, but she was slowly starting to heal. At least the mere mention of him didn't send her crying to her room now. No, the crying stage of her grief was over.

After the Doctor had explained his odd history with Missy, Clara felt like she could understand a little bit more. What prompted him to protect her, how she'd turned out the way she did…not that it justified her crimes. But Clara could understand, just a little. It made living with her easier, anyway.

Since the two Gallifreyans needed barely any sleep, Clara rarely saw them outside of the console room. They barely seemed to stop, intent on their work. Clara would have almost felt like a spare part, useless and unwanted, if it weren't for the memory of the hug the Doctor had given her and the heavy weight of Missy's device in her pocket. And the lingering gaze of Missy whenever the Doctor wasn't looking.

The blaring opening chords of '_Supermassive Black Hole' _by Muse tore Clara from her ruminations, looking up to see the Doctor slap Missy's hand away from the console, and see her slap his hand right back.

"When you two have quite finished acting like an old married couple," she quipped, prompting the two to stare at her. The Doctor gaped like a fish out of water, while Missy smirked after a sideways glance at the Doctor.

"Yes, Miss Oswald," she replied in a girlish, singsong voice. "Come now, Doctor. We must do what teacher says."

"You always were teacher's pet," the Doctor scoffed, as he turned away. Missy laughed.

"Only because I was better at pretending than you," she retorted easily, moving away from him with a conspiratorial smile in Clara's direction. "Well, what did he expect when he kept raving about perceiving the meaning of life in a daisy? Honestly, no wonder you failed first time round."

Despite herself, Clara laughed. The Doctor rolled his eyes. "When you've quite finished ganging up on me," he growled, eying them both warily. Even the Tardis had hummed in amusement at Missy's story. Traitor. "I'm going to the storeroom."

"Going to sulk is more like it," Clara muttered, rolling her eyes. Even older and more serious than his previous incarnations, he was still such a child at times. He disappeared with a loaded glance at Clara, his brows furrowed with worry. She knew he was worried for her, especially with the disintegrator in her pocket, but it warmed her to know he still trusted her enough to leave her alone with the woman she'd been willing to kill only ten days ago.

A peaceful silence fell, as Missy went back to scribbling more equations on the chalkboards, and Clara watched, falling into a kind of daze. "Tell me, Clara," Missy began, breaking the almost peaceful silence. "Do you play chess?"

Clara gaped at her, as she stopped writing, tapping the chalk against her chin thoughtfully. She'd not glanced in her direction once in that entire sentence. "W-what?" she stammered.

"Do you play chess? I always find that distractions can work wonders when one's mind is refusing to co-operate," Missy continued, finally looking in her direction.

"Why not ask the Doctor? He'd probably be better matched to you than I am," Clara replied, after a moment, scrambling for her wits.

"Oh, Mr. Cross Pants isn't all he's cracked up to be," the Time Lady giggled, before giving Clara a conspiratorial look. "But don't tell him I said that. Poor dear gets ever so upset if his ego's insulted."

"And you don't?" Clara retorted without thinking. Missy eyed her with an appreciative grin now, all her attention on the human.

"Touché," she murmured. "So you can play."

"I didn't say I could pl-?" Clara protested.

"You implied the Doctor would be a better match for me than yourself, which further implies a grasp of the game. Yes?" she interrupted her with a raised hand, manicured red nails glinting in the soft lighting of the console room. Clara mentally cursed herself for not being quicker, but short of retreating, an option she refused to contemplate, she couldn't see a way out.

Seemingly satisfied with Clara's silence for an answer, Missy stepped away from the chalkboards and towards a small table. She swiped it clear of equipment, seemingly uncaring about the detritus now littering the floor, and to Clara's shock, reached into her coat pockets and retrieved a small travelling chess set.

"Gallifreyan tailoring. Bigger on the inside," Missy explained at Clara's look, with a gleeful smile. She gestured her towards the table as she set out the pieces. "Now which side do you prefer? Oh wait, silly me. It'll be white for you," she tittered mockingly, and Clara bristled but refused to react.

"Drop the act," was all she said, coldly. "It doesn't fool me, this snide little girl act."

"Who said I was acting, dear?" Missy replied with a chuckle. "White moves first, remember?"

Clara bent over the board, trying to formulate a strategy in her head. She'd played chess at school, but hadn't carried it on past secondary school. She'd be lucky if she remembered all the rules. After a moment, she picked a pawn at random and moved it forward.

"Careful," Missy admonished. "Chess is a game of strategy, my dear."

"And what if my strategy is to be as random as possible? Then you'd never be able to predict which move I'll make next," Clara replied challengingly. Missy leant on the console, crossing her arms as she stared down at the board, thoughtfully chewing her bottom lip. It made the red of her lipstick even brighter as it swelled, and Clara found herself oddly fascinated by it.

"True," the Time Lady sighed. "But there's a strategy behind even the most seemingly random moves. Much like life, innit?"

The sudden switch to an East End London accent reminded Clara of what the Doctor had told her before, about Missy being responsible for bringing them together and keeping them together. Just as Missy moved her first pawn, Clara spoke.

"I know. The Doctor told me you were responsible for our meeting," she said softly, as Missy sighed. "What I want to know is why."

"Do you know when the first time I saw you was?" was the Time Lady's reply. "On Gallifrey. During the fall of Arcadia."

Clara shut her eyes involuntarily at that, remembering the carnage, the sound of Daleks screeching their hateful catchphrase to the skies, the screams of children, the smell of blood.

"I knew, after Gallifrey was saved and sent into a pocket universe, I knew. There was only person in all of Time and Space capable of changing his mind, bending his vaunted will. His companion," she continued explaining, much to Clara's surprise. "When I was sent back, I ensured the two of you met. The control freak and the man who should never be controlled. A perfect match."

Clara bristled at that, as she moved her knight, taking black pawn. "That's rich coming from you. You've been trying to control him for years," she scoffed. Missy smiled, a sly grin that made Clara shudder.

"And so often, I have failed. But you, my dearest Clara, you…" she sighed, trailing off theatrically. Clara rolled her eyes, missing the fact that she'd just taken three of Clara's pawns in one move. "You are truly remarkable. Until now. Even you went too far."

"What are you talking about?" Clara asked, focussing on the board. Thinking hard, she quickly moved, taking out Missy's knight.

"Ooh, well done," Missy clapped, before she grew thoughtful. "You asked him to do the one thing even he couldn't do. You tried to manipulate him into killing me. Guilt tripping him. Almost worked too."

"No, I didn't…" Clara gasped, outraged. Missy just shook her head sadly.

"I told you, Clara. You have no idea of the potential you possess. No idea of the lengths you will go to for the ones you love. Betraying one love for the sake of another, now _**that**_…is truly diabolical," Missy continued, ignoring Clara's anger. "And now he's guilt-tripping you in turn. Giving back my device, telling you he trusts you, all to ensure you don't even think about killing me again. He's a past master at manipulation, darling."

"I know what you're doing," Clara remarked, after she'd got a hold of her temper again. Missy glanced up at her questioningly. "You're trying to break us apart. You can't stand it that he chose me and humanity over you and your twisted little scheme. So you're trying to poison us instead."

"Oh my dear," the Time Lady sighed. "I may be bananas but I'm still far too intelligent to attempt that. If your betrayal didn't destroy you, then nothing I can do will work. No, I merely want you to understand the man you have wrapped around your little finger. You're so blind to it, it's almost hilarious. Your constant struggle for dominance is rather amusing. It can be quite fun too. I would know, we've been playing for millennia, long before you were born. You have no idea of the ride you're in store for."

"You're insane," Clara pronounced firmly, as she moved her queen into play. Missy just smiled.

"Then that makes us all three of a kind," she replied softly, making Clara stare at her piercingly. "Doesn't it?"

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	5. Raising The Stakes

Series 9: What We Deserve

_**Warnings: dark themes, violence, torture, m/f, f/f & m/f/f relationships, explicit scenes.**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did**__**…**__**damn you, Moffat!**_

_**Summary: Wherein the Doctor warns Missy off Clara, things become heated, and Clara struggles to understand both the bond between them and her own past. (Bisexual!Clara is my head canon. Screw you, Moffat!)**_

_**A/N: This is where the Twissy really comes into play. Big time. You're welcome…Oh and spot the Green Wing reference if you can.**_

* * *

><p>"I've finished programming the new algorithms into the Tardis data matrix," Missy's voice pierced the heavy silence of the console room, aimed at the impenetrable planes of the Doctor's back. "I managed to decrease the spatial limitation factor so it won't take more than a week to calculate each set of dimensional co-ordinates, and a week to travel between each universe."<p>

The Doctor continued to ignore her. Missy pouted, placing her hands on her hips with a huff.

"You could at least thank me!" she snapped. "Without me, you'd have taken at least a year to travel between each universe. A little appreciation might be nice!"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Was I lacking in rapture for your little temper tantrum?" he snapped back, sarcastically. "Forgive me for not getting the brass band out."

"Oh, out with it. What's wrong? I know something's wrong, your eyebrows have gone all sharp and angry," Missy turned to face him fully, her icy eyes searching his visage. "Did you get out of bed on the wrong side this morning? I could help with that, you know…"

The Doctor ignored the suggestion in her voice, reining in his temper. "I don't know what you said to her, but if you've hurt Clara…" he began fiercely, stepping into her personal space as her eyes lit up. She laughed wildly.

"Hurt Clara? Hah!" she scoffed derisively. "What's the matter, Doctor? Are you actually afraid your darling companion is capable of murder?"

"Shut up!" he snarled, already turning away from her as his control frayed further. For the past three days, Clara had avoided the console room, and him, and she barely spoke. She wandered around the Tardis, or sat in the library, with a distracted, thoughtful look on her face. But the sorrow and confusion in her eyes told him that whatever she was thinking, it wasn't good. And if the Mistress and their little chess game had anything to do with that…

Clara had suffered enough already.

"I merely told her some home truths. About you and her, and you and me," Missy continued, seemingly blind to the growing tension in the Doctor's form. And that was the other problem.

* * *

><p>She was too close. She was always there, in his space, in his Tardis, in his thoughts. She gave him no rest, the familiarity of her telepathic signature buzzing warmly at the back of his mind. His friend, his nemesis, his tormentor. His Mistress.<p>

It brought back memories the Doctor would rather prefer lost or forgotten. It brought back memories the Doctor desperately yearned to hold onto. Hope and bitterness in equal measure filled his every thought in regard to her.

And desire. Troubling, uncontrollable desire as he'd not felt in eons. He'd always exercised supreme control over his physical urges, as every Time Lord was trained from birth to do. Admittedly, it had taken him, and Missy, centuries to hone such control. But it had rarely broken in his two thousand years. It was within a knife's edge of doing so now.

It was all her fault. Clothed in clinging black cambric that moulded to her form like water, her dark curls and hypnotic eyes, those red lips she'd taken to biting provocatively around him. She was doing it on purpose, he was certain.

* * *

><p>"There is no you and me," he growled. <em>Liar…<em>

The thought reached him, slamming into him like a physical punch, yet it was whispered as softly a sigh. Damn her and her telepathy.

His head snapped towards her, and she smiled unrepentantly. "I was always the better telepath, honey…" she breathed tauntingly. He moved towards her again, threateningly, but she didn't flinch away from him. She knew he'd never harm her. This was just yet another plane to their eternal battleground.

"I don't know what you're doing…" he began coldly, but she tossed her head back in wild, rapturous laughter. She hopped up to sit on the console, and the Doctor was momentarily distracted by wondering if he'd remembered to lock the controls while they'd worked, but then she twined her legs around his, forcing him forward against her, hips nestled comfortably between her thighs.

"Oh yes, you do," she purred seductively, now pressed against every inch of him. "You remember this, don't you, Theta? We were such deviants, right from the outset…it was no wonder, really."

"Stop it!" he growled, unnerved by the use of his old Academy nickname, his voice reduced to a harsh bark with his body betraying him.

"Do you want me to stop, really?" she replied, her own voice deepened into a husky purr. The purr of a predator. Her figure was petite and curvaceous underneath him, and her familiar warmth was beckoning him. Bringing back memories he'd buried long ago…Her breath huffing gently across his lips as she laughed softly, brought him out of his thoughts as her eyes burned with blue fire. "I'll stop if you ask me to. I'll always stop…"

"You're delusional," he muttered as she bent her head to his neck, nuzzling it above the line of his collar. He arched with a moan, as she chuckled. She brought him in tighter against her, her powerful thighs holding him in a trap of steel covered by silk-warm flesh and fabric. Enticing. Damning.

"Am I?" she whispered, reaching up one hand and raking it down his chest, blood-red nails pressing cruelly into his skin. "You have loved many but you never let yourself get close to any of them, did you? I know you didn't, because you will only ever see me. Because, you see, I was the one who broke you first. Wasn't I? And you've never succeeded in getting me out of your head."

His hearts were racing and every nerve in his body screaming. She was just so _**close**_ and so _**warm**_ and…_forgive me, Clara_…

"Ah, ah, ah," she tutted, like he was a naughty child. "Much as I wouldn't mind some fantasising in later encounters, this time is just for us. For now."

He frowned, mind racing. "What d'you mean-" he began to ask, but he found his mouth suddenly vigorously occupied. She kissed as she'd always done, wildly and with abandon, giving herself over to the physical sensations with an enthusiasm their kind deplored. But they'd never cared much what their own kind thought of them.

His objections wiped clean from his mind, he fell into the kiss, letting her set the pace. She moaned into his mouth as their tongues twined and duelled together, with an alacrity that had been missing in the mausoleum. Their kiss in the graveyard had lacked the intensity of this too, and the Doctor was struggling to remain sober as he was steadily becoming drunk on the taste and feel of his Mistress, back in his arms once more, after thousands of years apart.

Oh, they'd duelled and danced together in endless battles across the cosmos, but never like this. Not since their younger days, before they'd joined the Academy, before he'd left, before she descended into insanity.

She broke the kiss abruptly, pressing her forehead against his. "Stop thinking," she gasped, hands plucking at his shirt buttons. His hand slid into her hair, disturbing the long, luscious black curls eagerly, letting them fall down her back and shoulders freely as he bent his head to her neck, feeling the pulse of her four-beat hearts under his tongue once more. Different body, certainly, but the desire was the same, the mind pressing lasciviously yet tenderly against his was the same, her hearts the same. Always the same.

"Fascinating," she gasped as he nipped at the line of her throat, hands leaving her hair to undo her blouse and jacket, revealing the wispy chemise and corset beneath.

"What is?" he found the mental acuity to mutter into her neck, inhaling the scent of her curls in deep.

"Us. This," she moaned, pressing herself into him wantonly. Her legs tightened around him, forcing their hips together and he groaned in reply. She laughed. "Just look at us. The last male and female Gallifreyans left in the universe, and all those millennia of genetic repression and self-discipline straight out the window," she explained, breathlessly.

"Are you really trying to explain this away as a biological imperative?" he asked, staring at her. She giggled and shook her head, pulling him back against her tightly.

"Oh no," she whimpered. "I'm not letting you wriggle out of this now. We've neither of us been conformists in _**any **_of our lives."

He ripped her blouse away, spreading her coat underneath her to provide some cushioning from the surface of the console. He briefly felt relief that this regeneration was so tall, that he could do this without effort, as he bent over her on the console, pressing her into the controls. Their lips met again without another word, and he let her into his mind with a sigh and a moan.

Their hips rocked together, and even still mostly clothed, the need was becoming too much. Her red nails raked through his silver hair, as he teased her silky sensitive skin with teeth and tongue.

He felt her mental plea like a kiss against his neck, as he trailed down to her thighs, lifting her skirts. He wasn't surprised by the lack of underwear, and the smell of leather from her calf-length lace-up boots filled his senses as they twined over his shoulders.

"Ah, ah, ah!" he teased her, as she glared at him and growled, her grip growing painful in his hair. "Don't tell me the almighty Mistress is begging now?"

She responded with a telepathic feedback loop that almost had him falling to his knees from the strength of her need and desire. It compounded his own, and he bent his head to her without complaint after that, the scent of leather replaced by the scent of her, musky and warm against his tongue. She moaned and writhed above him, and he heard a slap as one of her hands shot out to press against the rotor for balance.

The telepathic link she'd established between them quickly exacerbated things, feeding their mutual desire like an inferno is fed by oxygen. The pleasure, sparked by the hungry mouth of the Doctor between her legs, ran through Missy's veins like blood before filtering back into him, and soon his grip on her thighs turned bruising, and she almost tore his hair from its roots in her desperation.

"That's cheating!" he accused her hoarsely, obeying her unsaid command to rise and kiss her, not bothering to wipe his mouth clean beforehand, and she kissed him eagerly, hand turned gentle around the nape of his neck. The hard boning of her corset dug into his chest, and she smiled like a feral cat when they broke the kiss, one fine brow arched sardonically.

"Since when do I ever play by the rules?" she asked. Her hand slid down his chest to his belt, undoing it one-handed with quick, nimble movements. He swiped her hand away and undid his trousers himself, not certain he could retain control if she got her claws on him. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he slid into her, thrusting in gently as that gentle warmth, that warmth that reminded him of home, of belonging, of days spent running through fields the colour of blood, washed through him and into her. "Oh, Doctor…" she whispered, her voice soft and devoid of calculation or ulterior motive, just pure tenderness and need.

"I hate you," he told her truthfully, as he began to thrust, and her eyes widened with every movement. She moved with him effortlessly, one hand still splayed against the time rotor, the other twined with his hair, her red lips swollen and parted, her icy-blue eyes transmuted to black with arousal.

"The feeling is entirely mutual," she promised him with a breathless giggle, pressing her forehead against his.

It was also a lie. He knew it, she knew it, and both knew the other knew it too. Their relationship went so much farther than simple hatred or love, so much more complex than mere lust or revulsion. It always had been and always would be.

Unable to bear the knowledge of that in her eyes, the Doctor closed his eyes and lost himself in her instead, feeling her body convulse around him with each thrust. The feedback loop between their minds intensified each burst of pleasure, each thundering beat of their hearts, and it wasn't long before she was crying out beneath him, and he was gritting his teeth against the same.

_Trust her to make as much noise as possible. She'd never been the quiet one…_

The thought filtered through his mind and into hers, prompting her to bite his lower lip in retaliation. He gasped, his eyes snapping open, as she soothed the hurt with a kiss.

* * *

><p>Clara watched the two figures entwined on the console with wide eyes. She'd come looking for the Doctor to ask a question and walked in to find…<em><strong>this<strong>_.

Her eyes trailed over the partially-clothed pair, taking in lithe limbs twined around familiar black linen, red nails buried in silver curls. The Tardis hummed with the strength of the mental union between them, and she wasn't immune either. She could feel it, like a throb in her blood, four beats in quick succession. A soft singing murmured in her head, but this time were was no pain, not even a whisper. Just an entrancing, haunting melody that accompanied the drumbeat in her blood.

She was drawn out of her mind by the soft cry of the woman lying beneath the Doctor, and as she turned her head from the Doctor's, her eyes met Clara's where she stood in the shadows of the console room. There was no shock, no consternation there, and Clara almost wondered if she even saw her. It was obvious the Doctor was still oblivious to her presence.

No, instead those eyes darkened by desire were…inviting, enticing her, almost daring her. Like they'd been in the graveyard. A reckless part of Clara wondered what would happen if she emerged from her shadows and ran her hand down the Doctor's naked back.

Watching them, for the first time, she thought she could understand the bond between them. Despite everything, the deaths, the battles, the rivalry, they simply belonged together. They were bound beyond anything her human mind could comprehend.

She'd thought she'd known love with Danny, and she had. But there was nowhere near the scale of such as this. This was fire and death, hate and love, need and dependency. There was no Mistress without her Doctor, and the Doctor was so much less without his Mistress. They were each other's opposite, the mirror image, the future that could have been, if they'd each taken different paths.

Clara looked up once more, meeting Missy's half-lidded gaze. That invitation was there again, and the visceral tug in her abdomen at the image that began to take shape in her mind shocked her like an electrical jolt. Before she was seen, other than by Missy, she retreated, mind full of confusion.

For the past few days, she'd been replaying the chess game in her head. What Missy had said about her, about the Doctor, and the implied similarities between her and Missy…all struck a little too near the nerves singed by the graveyard and Danny's death. A year ago, she'd have laughed scornfully if anyone suggested she was anything like Missy. Now…

With an effort of will, Clara pulled herself away from that line of thought. It didn't do her any good, and while yes she had a dark side like everyone did, she would never be like Missy.

But that scene in the console room…somehow Clara sensed that Missy had planned for her to see them like that. But why? To torture her? To tempt her?

The thought brought her up short. She'd always known her feelings for the Doctor ran deeper than friendship alone, but they'd been buried after his regeneration. Before, he'd been tactile and flirtatious, albeit in a flustered, shy way, like a schoolboy with a crush. When he'd regenerated, she'd been more drawn to him than ever, moved by his trust in her and attracted by those long, slender hands and the leashed power in every movement of his body. But he'd been so averse to something as simple a hug…she'd never wanted to push it. She didn't want to lose him.

So she'd buried those feelings, and Danny had come along. Strong, brave, ordinary Danny. Danny who loved his life for what it was, never yearning for more like she had. Danny who'd trusted her implicitly and given her everything. Danny, who she'd loved, but not well enough. Never well enough.

Maybe that was why. She'd been looking for an escape from her emotional impasse with the Doctor and found one, one she could love. Danny had been so easy to love. But even that hadn't been enough to break the Doctor's hold on her heart. It never would, as she'd said in the graveyard. He was in her blood, bound to her as tightly as Missy, by their shared history.

As for Missy…

Clara had once experimented with girls in secondary school. She hadn't known what to make of it, her strange attraction to both boys and girls. So she'd done what she always did. Jumped right in at the deep end, regardless of the consequences.

Until she'd been caught snogging Nina Thompson behind the bike sheds at school by a teacher. The headmaster had sat down with her and her parents, and explained it was just a phase, that while some girls liked other girls and other unnatural things like that, she couldn't like both. It was just a phase, she'd been told. She'd shrugged her shoulders and moved on, but as she grew up and matured, that phrase had stuck at the back of her mind, echoing with all the force of a foghorn whenever she so much as looked at another woman.

That little voice was surprisingly quiet now. The woman had a kind of sensual allure to her, like a prowling panther in the jungle. Dangerous and insane, but oh so enticing. Until she got her claws into you.

Another image popped into Clara's head, imagining her hands buried in ruffled black curls, tangled and twined around her fingers. She could almost feel red lips and sharp teeth nipping along her throat, as cool fingers trailed down her hips, a signet ring flashing on one of them. She caught herself with a gasp, her eyes snapping open. Shock and self-disgust overwhelmed the arousal sparking in her belly, and she shuddered. She wouldn't let Missy win whatever twisted little scheme she'd concocted for her and the Doctor. She couldn't let her seduce her into complacency.

She could never forget who and what the Mistress was. She just hoped the Doctor wouldn't either.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	6. Once More Into The Breach

Series 9: What We Deserve

_**Warnings: dark themes, violence, torture, m/f, f/f & m/f/f relationships, explicit scenes.**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did**__**…**__**damn you, Moffat!**_

_**Summary: The trio land in their first universe and Missy and Clara get into a spot of trouble.**_

**_A/N: For the alternate universes, some will be of my own creation and some will be crossovers with other fandoms. I had the idea for a few which suited story arcs for the characters which had no way of fitting otherwise. Hope you enjoy!_**

* * *

><p>The atmosphere in the console room was as thick as treacle. Clara wasn't sure even a lightsabre would be enough to cut through it. She sat on the gantry steps as the Doctor and Missy prepared the Tardis for the first jump into the space between dimensions. The Doctor had told her it was called the Void. Her question had brought such a haunted expression to his features; she hadn't dared ask any more.<p>

As she watched the two Gallifreyans move about, she noticed how jumpy the Doctor had become around Missy, the way he flinched whenever she brushed past him, and the Mistress's gleeful delight when she noticed. Did he regret their little interlude?

She reflected that anyone else would have felt betrayed and disgusted after witnessing it, and so she might have as well, if she hadn't known some of the story beforehand. The Doctor's words to her in the graveyard, telling her she didn't have the right to judge him, came to mind and she knew them for truth. She didn't have the right to judge, but that didn't mean she wouldn't keep a closer eye on Missy from now on. Whatever game she was playing, she wouldn't let her win.

He hadn't said a word about the incident, and Clara wondered if he really hadn't realised she'd seen them. Missy had, had locked eyes with her while in the throes of their passion, and she seemed to be taking a wicked delight in flicking lascivious, heated looks her way, running her fingers down her arm, or flicking her hair as she walked past. Her attentions were…unnerving, but not unendurable. The Doctor had offered, again, to take her home but staying with them was preferable to going home.

Remembering the invitation in Missy's eyes as she'd lain beneath the Doctor on that console, Clara shivered.

The Doctor noticed her shiver, glancing at her in concern. It was almost enough to distract him from Missy's intrusive attentions, constantly touching him, caressing him, whenever she got the chance. Flaunting it in his face, and Clara's.

He still cursed himself for his lack of control. It should never have happened, regardless of the history between them. Imagining Clara walking in to find them like that, imagining the look of revulsion in her eyes, the already fractured trust between them obliterated, it made him shudder. He'd pondered if that had been Missy's plan, but no. He wasn't sure what Missy's plan was, but somehow he sensed it didn't involve splitting him and Clara apart.

He made his final preparations, just checking the controls one last time, as Missy stood by his side, tapping her foot impatiently. "You don't have to check everything _again_. I've already double-checked it all," she huffed in exasperation. He rolled his eyes as he gently moved her arm aside, reaching for a lever. The contact sent another shiver down his spine and, he noticed, through her too, as she smiled innocently.

"I think I'll just check again, if you don't mind," he replied curtly, and she raised her hands in mock-surrender. He might have given in to his body's unnatural urges, but that didn't mean he trusted her.

"If you must, darling," she purred with a raised brow, and he mentally growled at her. Her amusement filtered through the remnants of their telepathic link, as she turned away. He heard Clara stand from her seat on the stairs, coming to his other side and leaning on the console.

"So, we're off then?" she asked softly, meeting his questioning look. Her eyes were still so sad and dark, but there was a spark of her usual vitality there now. Slowly, incrementally, she was recovering. He knew he should have sent her home, sent her back to her family rather than drag her along with him and Missy, but he'd been so cravenly grateful for her desire to stay, that he couldn't bring himself to take her home against her own wishes.

"Yep," he nodded. "Once more into the breach, dear friends, once more!"

"Or close up the wall with our English dead!" Missy quipped from his other side, as he exhaled raggedly.

"Trust you," he muttered, eying her glaringly. Then, to his surprise, Clara joined in their informal recital.

"I see you stand like greyhounds in the slips, straining upon the start. The game's afoot: follow your spirit and upon this charge, cry God for Harry, England and Saint George," she recited in turn, a cheeky smile quirking her lips. It made her look like the old Clara again, the one who hadn't been torn between his life and an ordinary one, his Impossible Girl, who hadn't seen the man she loved taken from her so horrifically. Her eyes flicked to the Mistress, and a hint of mischief bloomed in her sad eyes. "Seems oddly appropriate. And ironic."

He chuckled, as Missy pouted on the other side of him at the mention of her previous incarnation's alias. He looked down at his hand on the lever, tight and pale, the tendons standing out starkly from the force of his grip. This was it, he was finally going home. He was finally going to find Gallifrey once more. This was it.

He watched as a slender hand, as pale and cool as his, nails painted blood red, touched his almost tenderly. He looked up, into Missy's understanding eyes, gentle for once as she nodded. She understood.

He looked to Clara, and she smiled softly, showing no sign of disgust or disquiet about that display of familiarity. After watching Missy throw him against a wall and kiss him like her life depended upon it, he supposed hand touching wasn't much to worry about. But her eyes showed the same understanding.

With a deep breath, he pulled the lever. And the rotor began to rise and fall, the familiar rasping sound of the Tardis' engines filling the console room.

* * *

><p>"So this is the Void," Clara remarked, staring at the scanner. "Didn't think it'd be so…literal."<p>

The Tardis hadn't particularly enjoyed being thrown through a newly made dimensional fissure and into the Void, and he could feel her discomfort in his mind. He stroked the console soothingly, mentally promising her it would be worth it when they finally found Gallifrey. His old girl responded with a gentle wave of warmth, and he knew she understood. There seemed to be a lot of that going around today.

"The Eternals used to call it the Howling," Missy said, looking over Clara's shoulder at the scanner. "Heavens knows why. There's no sound, no air, no light, no dark. Just…nothing."

"Yeah, thanks for that. Worked that out for myself," Clara retorted coolly, but her voice lacked any venom. She was too transfixed by the nothingness displayed on the scanner screen, a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. "How long will it take us to get through?"

"A week," the Doctor told her. "We're following the residue trail left by Missy when she travelled this way before," he continued, frowning slightly. "Actually, that's a fair point. Where's _**your**_ Tardis?"

"Now he asks me," Missy sighed dramatically. "Safe. _**Extremely **_well-hidden and booby-trapped should any of your UNIT pets stumble across it. Never fear, Doctor."

"That wasn't exactly what I meant," he grumbled, eying her darkly. She shrugged with an innocent smirk and flounced off, skirts swirling around her.

"So this is it?," Clara asked him.

"Yep. It'll take a week to traverse the Void to the next universe calculated by the Tardis," he explained, with a grudging glance in Missy's direction, who curtsied coquettishly in reply. He turned back to see a wicked smirk dawning on Clara's face as she eyed him. "Oh no, don't you dare say it," he growled.

"Are we there yet?" she asked, ignoring his warning entirely. He groaned and slapped his forehead with his hand, rolling his eyes. Missy laughed on the other side of the console. "I'm going to make some tea. Fancy a cuppa?" Clara announced from beside him. "Unless you've got a crate of champagne buried around here somewhere?" she added questioningly, with a mischievous smirk.

"He used to keep a very nice store of Bollinger in one of the storerooms off the kitchen," Missy called up as she walked down the stairs to the lower levels.

"Deleted it years ago," he called back, repressively, as Clara giggled. She raised a brow in question, and he nodded. "Seven sugars-"

"Yeah, seven sugars. I know," she sighed, rolling her eyes as she disappeared into the corridors towards the kitchen. The Doctor listened until he was sure she was long gone, before following Missy down to the underbelly of the console. He needed to have a word with her.

* * *

><p>He wasn't entirely surprised by the hand that appeared from behind the mass of cables to grasp his arm, yanking him into her arms. Her lips met his, and before he realised it, they were kissing passionately and he was backing her into the cables, pressing against her damningly.<p>

Her cherry red mouth tasted of triumph and exhilaration, as she raised one hand to his hair, raking her nails against his scalp teasingly. He groaned, rocking his hips into her, drawing a moan from her lips in retaliation.

With a growl, he forced his lips away from hers. "We're not doing this again," he told her firmly, but she just laughed and twined one leg around his. She undid his coat and slipped her hands inside, sliding them around and up to curve over his back. She raised her lips to his ear, taunting him with her warm breath as he was forced to bend slightly to her level. He inhaled her perfume, and shut his eyes against the temptation to press his lips to her neck.

"Worried your sweet little Impossible Girl might hear us?" she whispered. He swallowed, his voice reduced to a harsh moan as she rolled her hips into his.

"Don't involve Clara in this," he growled warningly, but she just chuckled against his ear.

"Silly boy," she murmured fondly. "She's already involved. She not only heard us, but _**saw **_us as well. She knows."

The Doctor felt desire quashed by horror, as he drew back as much as she'd let him to stare at her. She looked delighted and ruffled, her curls mussed by his own hand. She smiled, a lioness' smile when she spots the antelope, and caressed his back fondly.

"B-but…she…" he began to stammer, but Missy cut him off, pulling him in again. She pressed a kiss to his throat, before laying one on his nose and trailing round to his ear again.

"And she liked it," she whispered. "She was aroused at the sight of us there, she wanted to be part of it. I could smell it the moment she stepped into the room."

He continued to stare at her in disbelieving horror, and she shook her head in exasperation. "Men," she continued. "It wasn't until I regenerated that I realised how utterly unobservant men can truly be. Did you really not know?"

"Know what?" he demanded, regaining the use of his tongue, shoving away his emotions. For now.

"That she wants you. Has always wanted you, regeneration or not. And she wants me," she pronounced delightedly. "Oh, it's all mixed up with hate, a fair dose of confusion and self-loathing in that tricky little mind of hers. But it's there."

She leaned up and kissed him again, deeply and aggressively, and he had no choice but to fall into the caress, mind suspended by the feel of her body against his. "We're all going to have to get along," she added, when she pulled away from him with a teasing smirk. "Just something for you to consider…"

And with that, she walked away. Leaving the Doctor flabbergasted and utterly confused. And aroused.

* * *

><p>The week passed peacefully enough for the three travellers. They co-existed easily enough, Missy constantly teasing and taunting the Doctor, Clara watching them intently, and the Doctor utterly confused by it all.<p>

It seemed to be a near constant state for him, nowadays.

He still didn't understand Missy's plan, or her motivations, and he'd taken to avoiding her as much as possible. Their confrontations had a tendency to end with her lips against his and his self-control disappearing out the proverbial window. It didn't help that her words about Clara, and her still apparently lingering attraction to him, wouldn't get out of his head.

And he was worried about her. He had no doubt that she still hated Missy, and was still mourning for Danny, but the glint in her eye when she and Missy clashed, most often over chess while he did maintenance work on the Tardis console, pointedly ignoring Missy's remarks about how to repair _**his**_ Tardis, that unnerved him. It was like she was relishing the game Missy had embroiled her in. She was changing before his eyes, and he wasn't sure he liked who she was changing into.

He always forced aside any such thoughts when they entered his head. Clara, his Impossible Girl, hadn't changed. She couldn't change, he wouldn't let her. He wouldn't lose her too.

So when the Tardis rotor finally came to a halt with a deep _clang_ of the engines - and no he hadn't left the brakes on- he was relieved to see the old excitement rising in her features as she rushed to his side.

"Have we landed?" she asked with a smile. "Where are we?"

He checked the scanner, curious himself, and sighed. "Earth, apparently. Or an alternate version of it," he told her. Missy sidled up on his other side, and he restrained a now habitual shiver at her warmth pressing into his hip.

"Curious," she mused. "It was the same when I first travelled through. Always the same miserable little planet."

"Hey!" Clara snapped, but Missy just winked at her teasingly. The Doctor chuckled despite himself, and glanced at Clara. The same old impetuosity was rising in him, and he was glad not everything had changed.

"Can we take a look?" she asked, glancing at the scanner.

"I think so," the Doctor replied, checking the outside atmosphere was breathable first. You could never tell with alternate realities. "After all, we're stuck here for a week…"

He trailed off as he realised he was talking to an empty console room, and there was a draft. With a curse, he turned and followed them outside.

"What do I always say?" he stormed as he stepped out and spotted the two women standing atop a rise a few metres away. They were parked atop a cliff overlooking a barren quarry, the sky darkened by fog. "Rule Number One! Never wander off!"

"You do realise, honey, that almost none of your companions ever listen?" Missy quipped, with a sharp smirk. "And I hardly count as one of your companions."

"And what do you think you do, all the time?" Clara interjected, a teasing look of her own on her face.

"I'm a Time Lord, I'm allowed to wander off," he replied archly. "I don't need babysitting."

"That's debatable," his Impossible Girl scoffed, as Missy laughed. Realising he was outnumbered, he gestured to the cliff in front of them pointedly.

"Shall we take a walk then?" he muttered. "Since you were so insistent on coming outside."

Missy and Clara wisely remained silent as they followed the sulking Doctor down a trail cut into the side of the quarry, staring out over the lifeless landscape.

"It's all so empty?" Clara remarked, wonderingly. "Where are we on Earth, Doctor?"

"According to the scanner, somewhere in northern France. Or what should be France," he explained. "Who knows in this reality? Maybe the Saxons invaded France instead of the other way around. Maybe the Roman Empire never fell. Maybe it never existed in the first place. Who knows?"

"Every action has an equal and opposite reaction," Missy added, as she passed the Doctor and stopped by Clara's side. "For every universe, there is an equal and an opposite. But it is bleak, even for my tastes."

"Well, now _**that **_is saying something," the Doctor quipped, drawing a laugh from Clara and a scathing glare from Missy. A whizzing noise suddenly filled the air, and he frowned. "What's that-?"

The rock face above them exploded into shards, as they ducked and flung themselves sideways, missing the collapsing rock by a hair. The Doctor rolled over onto his front, eyes scanning the landscape. He quickly found their attackers in the form of twenty people, all clothed in black combat gear, strange rifles he didn't recognise in their hands.

"Quick! Back to the Tardis!" he barked urgently, as he scrambled upright, dragging Clara and Missy with him. There came more shouts and more gunfire as the rounds impacted the rock around behind them. Their pursuers clambered up the rock behind them, right on their tail.

Just as they reached the top, Clara stumbled. The Doctor heard her cry and turned back, but Missy was already there. She dragged the human upright, her intricate hairstyle ruffled and sagging from their mad dash up the quarry, and the Doctor heard that familiar whizzing sound as his eyes met Missy's.

The familiar icy blue orbs widened, as she shoved Clara away from her, just as she was hit in the neck by some kind of dart. Different ammunition to the previous shots.

She jerked, a hand rising to her neck, as Clara scrambled to her feet. "Ooh," she gasped. "Somehow I doubt I'm going to enjoy this…"

And she collapsed at their feet, boneless, as the shouts and the gunfire drew ever nearer.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	7. The Game Is Just Beginning

Series 9: What We Deserve

_**Warnings: dark themes, violence, torture, m/f, f/f & m/f/f relationships, explicit scenes.**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did**__**…**__**damn you, Moffat!**_

_**Summary: Missy is feeling vulnerable after literally baring her soul to Clara. Clara is feeling powerful. The two inevitably clash.**_

_**A/N: This is where the Clara x Missy dynamic begins to unfold, so if it's not your thing I'd advise you look away now. Two scenes are from 'the Dark Path', a Missing Adventures Novel by David McIntee. If you can find a copy, it's worth the read, most especially for the Master/Doctor dynamic, and further information on Koschei before he became the Master. So spoilers for that!**_

* * *

><p>Missy was a dead weight on Clara's shoulders, as she and the Doctor half-dragged, half-carried her between them to the Tardis. Behind them, their pursuers yelled and continued to fire, darts and explosive ammunition hitting the rocks around them.<p>

Whoever had hit Missy had clearly been a lucky shot.

At that moment, Clara was never more grateful for it. As they neared the Tardis, the Doctor snapped his fingers and the doors opened. The trio tumbled inside ungracefully, the Doctor releasing Missy gently and springing over her to shut the doors and prepare to dematerialise.

Clara rolled Missy over until she was on her back, and brushed aside the long curls covering her face. The Time Lady was moaning and mumbling, delirious strings of words that made no sense. Her cheeks were bloodless and she was sweating, every muscle in her body locked tight in tension.

The Tardis wheezed and jolted as her pilot dematerialised her. They couldn't leave the planet, not until the next calculation was completed and the dimensional fissure made. But they could hide.

This time, the Doctor made sure to scan for technology or signs of life when they materialised in the middle of Death Valley, California but this time, there was nothing for hundreds of miles around. They were safe.

"Doctor?" Clara called him urgently, and he spun, unwelcome fear and desperation tugging at his hearts. He wasn't supposed to feel this way about _**her**_; he wasn't supposed to feel this at all. But he did, and he'd just got her back, and he did damn it.

He knelt over her, taking her head in his lap and smoothing her curls back. He looked up into Clara's dark eyes and glimpsed the same reluctant concern and fear there. Despite everything, she was still the same compassionate person he'd first known and loved.

"What's happening to her?" she asked, as he gently removed the dart from Missy's neck and staunched the wound with his handkerchief. It bled little, but he noted the strained beating of her hearts with alarm. He inspected the dart, sniffing it carefully for traces of the toxin.

Suddenly Clara gasped. His gaze darted to her, before he felt it too. Instinctively, he raised his mental shields but it was a struggle. She'd always been the better telepath.

"Clara? Clara!?" he called her name desperately, as he realised exactly what the toxin was doing to Missy. And if he wasn't careful, he'd lose two people he loved.

* * *

><p><em>She couldn't see him. She could him calling her name, begging her to listen, but she couldn't <em>_**see**__ him. She didn't know he was._

_Where was she, for that matter? She could feel the old panic rising, the feeling of being lost worming its way into her veins like poison. _

_But just as abruptly as she'd been dumped in this grey, nothing world, she was suddenly out of it. But not back on the Tardis…_

_She stood on a rocky outcropping, the sky a burnt, blackened red above her, filled with stars. Vague, amorphous memories shifted and sighed in her mind, as she shivered. Familiarity washed over her as she looked back down, to see a group of men and women in ornate robes, adorned with strange headdresses, leading a small boy towards a large, circular disc set into the earth._

_Instinct whispered, or maybe it was memory, that she knew this place. She knew it oh so well._

_The Untempered Schism. Backlit by torches, Clara couldn't see into it from her vantage point. Something inside her whispered she didn't want to._

_Her gaze was directed to the small boy, clad in black and white robes, hair as dark as the night, blue eyes wide with fear and uncertainty. And innocence._

_Shock lanced through Clara. Changed though they might be, she knew those eyes._

_The Mistress' eyes. Or rather, the Master's. The boy who would become the most infamous child of Gallifrey._

_She was inside __**her **__memories. Somehow, she must be._

_Cautiously, she edged closer but she was nothing but a ghost to everyone around her. She watched as an elderly looking Time Lord in maroon robes placed a hand on the boy's shoulders, giving him an encouraging squeeze as the boy stopped and looked back at him._

_That same fear fuelling her, Clara made sure to avoid looking at the Schism as she stepped closer, eyes fixed on the boy. He looked so innocent, so untouched by the life he would lead, the person he would one day become. He was just a child._

_Compassion bloomed in Clara's heart then, adding to the understanding that the Doctor had given her. She didn't want to feel it, she didn't want to care but it was as insidious and irresistible as the toxin flooding Missy's systems. _

_She watched as the horror and the madness bloomed in those innocent blue eyes. She ached for him as he collapsed to his knees, cradling his head, screaming about the drums. _

"_The day it all began," a voice murmured sadly, as Clara turned to find the Doctor standing beside her, tired eyes taking in the scene sorrowfully._

"_What happened?" she asked. "Why are we here?"_

"_The dart contained a neural toxin that's targeting Missy's brain. It's disrupting her neural pathways, disintegrating them. The Mistress is a very powerful telepath, always has been, and in the confusion she lost control of it," he explained quietly. "I very much doubt she meant to, but here we are. Ghosts in her memories."_

"_This is it, isn't it?" Clara whispered. "The moment he became the Master."_

"_Not entirely," he shook his head. "The seeds were planted, yes, but not yet brought to fruition. That came later…"_

_And as if in response to the Doctor's words, the scene before them melted into nothingness, and Clara blinked back tears._

_Once more the nothingness gave way except this time it was difficult to see exactly where they were. It was dark and disruptor blasts flew around her._

_Her eyes fell on a short, compact man with sallow, aristocratic features wearing a dove-grey, double-breasted suit, a laser pistol in his hand. She didn't need the Doctor to tell that was the Master._

_She saw him shoot an assailant, before a figure emerged from the darkness behind him. She watched him turn and shoot, a clearly instinctive action, but the cry that echoed from his lips broke her heart._

"_Ailla!"_

_Clara watched as he crashed to his knees beside her, leaning over as the woman, tall and pale with dark, short curls, tried to speak. She couldn't hear them, but she was shocked as the Master leant over her and pressed his lips to hers in a display of tenderness she'd never have expected from him._

"_His first human companion, Ailla," the Doctor explained beside her. _

"_You didn't tell me about her," Clara murmured, eyes fixed on the Master as he covered the woman's face with a handkerchief and walked away, an expression of inexorable determination masking the grief in his eyes. "He loved her."_

"_It wasn't my place to do so," the Doctor replied and she nodded. She closed her eyes._

_When she opened them again, they were stood in a Tardis console room, similar to the Tardis' original desktop setting, but with filing cabinets and two cylindrical storage lockers. The Master stood toe-to-toe with a short man with black hair and a tired looking face, dressed in an ill-fitting frock coat and checked trousers. The Second Doctor._

_Clara vaguely recognised him from her echoes' memories._

_Beside him stood a young girl in Victorian dress, and a woman with shoulder-length auburn hair, high cheekbones and intelligent eyes. She looked pale and slightly ill._

_Clara listened intently. It seemed the Master had committed genocide using a device called 'the Darkheart', to bring back his Ailla. _

"_You mean you've allowed the death of a whole species just so I can live? A race died because of me?" the woman asked in a horrified voice. _

"_What are you babbling about?" the Master demanded scornfully. _

_The Second Doctor coughed. "Koschei, listen to me. This is Ailla. She's one of us-" he tried to explain._

_Clara watched as the woman, Ailla, apparently a Time Lady, and the Master stared at one another. She could see his hearts break in his eyes, and the cold cruelty she had always seen in his latest incarnation's eyes take hold._

_But rage burned hotter._

_She watched them argue back and forth for a moment, before the Doctor asked the inevitable question. "What's happened to you?"_

_The Master smiled, a cold, cruel smirk. It sent shivers down Clara's spine even as her heart broke anew. He had been betrayed by two people he loved, had committed genocide and destroyed planets for her. And she had betrayed him._

_Clara could almost see the tiny flame of warmth in his eyes snuffed out by this discovery. "What's happened?" the Master murmured quietly. "My people mistrust me; I kill one of my best friends who was sent to me by the other; and both betray me." he went on, smiling slightly. "I have found myself Doctor, and I am the stronger for it."_

_She watched as Ailla tried to reason with her former friend, while the Doctor poked around. They argued back and forth for awhile, before three men in uniform appeared. At the Master's order, they seemingly appeared ready to take the Doctor and Ailla away, but the Doctor broke free, drawing himself up to his full height. "Koschei, stop this madness!"_

_The Master's words both chilled and made Clara ache for him. "Koschei, Doctor? Koschei…died with his 'human' companion."_

_The world faded to grey once more, and the Doctor's hand found and twined itself with Clara's. "We were so alike once," he sighed. "But there are some lines even I would not cross. Not then. The Darkheart would have given him absolute power."_

"_And absolute power corrupts absolutely," Clara finished for him. "And was that-?"_

"_Yes," the Doctor sighed. "The day he became the Master. My old friend, any trace of…humanity he possessed, gone."_

"_What happened to Ailla?" she asked._

"_She got home eventually. She was killed in the Time War, when the Dalek Emperor took control of the Cruciform," the Doctor replied, and from the look on his face, Clara had no desire to know more. "He was there," he continued. "When she died. I wonder if that was why he ran, in the end."_

_Clara suddenly stumbled, her mind flinching as their surroundings buckled and dissipated, returning to that shapeless grey cloud. The Doctor took her arm to steady her, looking around them worriedly._

"_Missy's mind is starting to collapse in on itself. I need to repair the damage," he muttered. "I'll send you back, then get started."_

_It was as sudden as her arrival into Missy's mind. One moment she stood in that grey, shapeless world, the next she was kneeling on the cold hard gantry, the Mistress's limp hand clutched tightly in her own._

* * *

><p>The Doctor had been able to repair the damage done by the neurotoxin, and Missy had awoken from her coma after a few days. Clara had wondered if she was aware that she'd accidentally established a telepathic link with her, but she didn't feel able to ask.<p>

She soon got her answer though.

Missy started keeping her distance from Clara. Stuck as they were on a ship with immense dimensions, Clara could tell she was making a concerted effort to avoid her. It both intrigued and saddened her.

It also have her a feeling of power. Missy knew almost everything about her, had been shadowing her life for years, and yet Clara knew nothing about her opponent in return. A few amorphous memories from her life as a Time Lady, but they were rarely accessible. Now, she knew almost too much and she had to remind herself that understanding was not justification, and Missy's crimes made her a monster even if they were exacerbated by the machinations of her own people.

It also explained, partly, the Doctor's lingering loyalty. How much guilt did he still harbour over Ailla? Over her death and regeneration, and the lie of omission he'd told to his oldest friend? Maybe he still hoped there was some lingering goodness underneath all that darkness.

Clara wasn't so optimistic. Any goodness she possessed had been stamped out long ago, and she was left with darkness and insanity and power. A desire for order but an inability to perpetuate anything but chaos.

She wondered how she would have reacted, if such a thing had happened to her. To be betrayed by her nearest and dearest, to have been lied to for so long, to go through such grief and all for naught, to have committed such a terrible act out of love, out of desperation…she knew what Danny would have done. She had lied to him for so long, and in the end, he'd only protected her, sacrificed himself for her and the rest of humanity. But for herself…she wondered if she would have been so forgiving in his place. If she mightn't have fired the gun levelled at her head, had she been in his place. To find out the one you loved was really another…

It made Clara feel sick all over again, grief welling up inside her to drag her down again. With an effort of will, she pushed it away, as she stood on a balcony overlooking the swimming pool, leaning on the rail.

A mocking voice interrupted her thoughts, as she jumped and spun, startled. "Oh, you're not snivelling again, are you?" Missy sneered coldly, a feral gleam in her icy eyes. Her hair was once again immaculately coiffed, her clothes correct and neat, a white bandage just visible above the line of her collar. Clara couldn't forget the sight of her laid out on the console room floor, hair ruffled and askew, skin bloodless and sweating. The feel of her hand holding limply to hers…

The image kept her strong as she turned to face her.

"Well, clearly my efforts saving your life were wasted, since you've been struck dumb," the Time Lady continued scornfully, eyes scanning Clara intently. "A common occurrence among your pitiful kind, I know."

Clara could see the slight unease there at her apparent nonchalance, as she turned to leave, apparently frustrated by Clara's continued silence. It also gave Clara her answer. Missy knew.

She was like a wounded animal lashing out and seemingly forgetting her quasi-friendly-bordering-on-flirtatious behaviour of the past few weeks. And wounded animals were never more dangerous than when backed into a corner.

She should have walked away. It was the safe, sane thing to do. But Clara was feeling reckless and powerful, and maybe it made her forget.

"Who's Ailla?" she asked before the Time Lady had walked away. She watched as that slender back had tensed and frozen as hard as rock. She slowly turned, with a kind of predatory intent that should have sent Clara screaming, but all she felt was a kind of wild exhilaration at baiting the storm.

"Spare me your amateur attempts at mind games, my dear," Missy sighed, with mocking patience. It might have riled Clara at any other time. "You're playing with, quite literally, the master of such things."

"Maybe," Clara replied with a small smile. "But you didn't answer my question. Who's Ailla?"

Her apparent refusal to drop the subject obviously prodded the Mistress's temper a little _too_ far. Before Clara could even blink, she found herself shoved against the railing, plastered between it and a very annoyed Missy. She could almost feel her double heartbeat thundering against her breasts.

"If you know that name," Missy snarled. "Then you know who she is, already. But how?"

"And if you know I know, you know how I know too," Clara replied, as coolly as possible with her body plastered against Missy's. "You should really learn how to control your telepathy," she mocked further, ignoring the instincts screaming at her to shut up.

But then Missy smiled and laughed, a low, husky sound so different to her usual maniacal cackle. It sent shivers down Clara's spine. "Oh, my darling girl!" she sighed, her eyes glinting with a feral light. "I have taught you well."

Clara was just opening her mouth to utter a blistering retort, but she was stunned as Missy's hands shot up from where they'd been curled around the railing, and clasped her face tightly. Before she could say a word, Missy's lips were against hers.

Her kiss wasn't like the messy, almost hilarious kiss she'd pressed on the Doctor in the mausoleum, nor the tender, soft kiss she'd accepted from him in the graveyard. Both kisses Clara had witnessed; one had left her feeling a mixture of amusement and revulsion, the other anger and betrayal. She hadn't actually seen them kiss during their tryst in the console room, not while she'd been standing there.

She wondered if they'd been like this one.

Missy's lips were a skilled, drugging caress. Her mouth was cooler than Clara's, giving her no space, no leeway to escape and before she could really think about what she was doing, she was kissing back. Her hands were in that elegantly coiffed hair, and her tongue was in Missy's mouth. It was lust and anger and hatred, a play for domination and manipulation, and Clara realised that whatever game she'd been playing up until now, they were just the opening moves. And she was determined not to lose.

Gathering her strength, as Missy moaned into her mouth, she pushed her away, following her until she had crushed her body back against the opposite wall. The Time Lady moaned at the impact, pressing her body harder into Clara's, her knee coming up to press intimately between her legs. Even though she was in the dominant position, Clara knew she was losing this battle but she didn't care. Desire was building in her blood, and despite what her head was screaming at her, her body was alive with sensation. So, so alive.

It was fair to say Missy had been surprised when little Miss Control Freak had kissed her back so ardently. So much passion in that petite frame, so restrained and repressed, until now.

It had surprised her. That she'd had the audacity to mention what she'd seen while her own telepathy had pulled her into her mind, to try and use it as a weapon, was both intriguing and exciting. That the little fool thought she could control her, even in this sphere.

They were two of a kind, both control freaks at heart. And never try to control a control freak.

Clara tasted of sweet, fresh desire untouched by the heady, intoxicating feel of Time that the Doctor's kisses held. She was so human, so fleeting, it was like kissing a supernova already in the final stages of its death. Hot and destructive and oh so fleeting.

She was fighting back, refusing to let her lead their new dance. Missy raised one hand to her scalp, raking her red nails through her hair, making her sigh into her mouth. She reciprocated, her shorter nails destroying her intricate hairstyle, and the flash of lust along her nerves almost drew Missy up short. She used her hold on Clara's waist and her position against the wall to rock Clara's hips down against her thigh, making the human whimper helplessly. Seizing her chance, she turned and forced Clara back against the wall in turn, pressing against her soft body desirously.

She could almost feel the boundaries of Clara's mind, just lingering there on the edges of her own, tentative and mistrustful and so tempting. But not yet, she couldn't let herself slip into her mind yet. Not yet…

She could feel the moment when sense apparently returned and she began to retreat. She let herself be pushed away even though her rather unTime-Ladylike instincts were screaming at her to push on with her seduction. Missy was a jealous and possessive creature, and she wanted her Time Lord and her Impossible Girl safely in her possession.

But not yet. She had to be patient and the girl's own darkening nature would push her into her companions' arms soon enough.

She watched as Clara drew herself up, panting and ruffled, and smiled. She knew full well it wasn't a particularly pleasant smile, the smile of a lioness with her prey. She just didn't care. It would make their game all the more interesting.

"You won't win this game," Clara said firmly. "I won't let you."

"Oh my dear," Missy sighed in reply. "The game's just beginning."

Apparently Clara seemed to think that retreat would be the better part of valour, as she said nothing and walked away. Missy smirked, glad to have deflected her prey away from her new weapon with such enjoyable ease.

Oh yes, the game was just beginning…

* * *

><p><em>To be continued…<em>


	8. Opening Moves

Series 9: What We Deserve

_**Warnings: dark themes, violence, torture, m/f, f/f & m/f/f relationships, explicit scenes.**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did**__**…**__**damn you, Moffat!**_

_**Summary: A new game begins between Clara and Missy. The Doctor knows but is powerless to stop it. Maybe, he doesn't even want to…**_

_**A/N: Not sure if there'll be an update tomorrow. I have a 10,000 word dissertation with my name on it to finish. We'll see. I just love writing these three too damn much.**_

* * *

><p>The Doctor knew something was up. There had to be.<p>

Four days after Missy had awoken from her coma, the next fissure had opened and they'd slipped through into the void once more, the NavCom calculating the next co-ordinates to head for.

He could only hope that the next universe they materialised in would be less hostile. But the memories of Missy sprawled over the console room floor while he rebuilt all her neural pathways weren't what was disturbing him. No, it was something else…

He glanced sideways at his companion piercingly. She'd laid aside her long coat, broach and unbuttoned her shirt slightly so the long, graceful line of her throat was exposed. Her usually upswept hair was rearranged into a new style, the curly sides drawn back into an intricate knot while the rest fell down her back in long waves. It fell almost to mid-back, and the soft light of the console room made it shine.

"Have you changed your hair?" he asked her, as she looked up from the set of wires she was prodding inexpertly, to the Doctor's mind at least, with his stolen sonic screwdriver. He waved his hand at it vaguely. "It's all long and floppy."

"Hmm," Missy hummed. "I've been experimenting. Do you like it?"

He grunted in reply as the console sparked, and Missy stepped back with a pleased laugh. "See!" she turned to him with excited eyes. "Told you I could do it."

"Beginner's luck," he growled, snatching his screwdriver back as she pouted.

"Need I remind you, I've had several Tardises of varying types? This old bucket is hardly difficult to maintain," she scoffed, as the Tardis hummed in annoyance. She rolled her eyes and sighed. "There's no pleasing some people."

Clara appeared at that moment, three mugs of tea perched precariously in her hands. "What's not pleasing?" she asked, handing the Doctor his and placing Missy's down on the console, ignoring the Doctor's scandalised cry. "Have you changed your new hair? It's…pretty."

"See, Doctor?" Missy preened, with a knowing glance in Clara's direction. "Sometimes, it's only us girls who can appreciate these things."

Clara laughed. "He couldn't tell if something looked nice if it jumped up in front of him wearing a neon sign," she quipped. "Y'know he still has that awful multi-coloured coat in the wardrobe."

"It was…in vogue at the time," the Doctor objected, feeling ganged up upon. Even his Tardis betrayed him, _again_, as she hummed in agreement.

"Whatever you say, Joseph," Missy muttered. He glared at her pointedly.

"What did you say?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing," Missy trilled with a smirk. Clara caught her eye, and despite herself, smiled mischievously. Missy began humming the opening bars of 'Any Dream Will Do', as Clara struggled not to laugh.

"Stop it…" the Doctor growled warningly. Missy shut up with a shrug, turning to pick up her mug of tea.

"Give me my coloured coat, my amazing coloured coat…" Clara joined in quietly, her husky voice ever so slightly out of tune. The Doctor threw his hands up grumpily.

"Argh, I give up!" he snapped. "I don't know what devilishly diabolical alliance you two have entered into, but call me when you're back to the sniping and threats?"

* * *

><p>He flounced out, as Clara laughed to herself, sensing Missy's figure pressing against hers.<p>

"So, my dear," Missy breathed against her ear, one arm coming around Clara's torso, just under her collarbone, holding her tightly. "What devilishly diabolical deeds might we accomplish next?"

Clara gasped when she felt her gently bite her earlobe playfully, before trailing her lips down Clara's neck teasingly. "Stop it," she gasped.

"Now now, dearest," Missy whispered. "We were finally having a moment there. Don't spoil it."

"There is no 'we'," Clara bit back. "We're going to be stuck together for a long time. Don't mistake that for me liking you. I hate you."

"My point exactly, sweetheart," the Time Lady replied softly, her red lips teasing Clara's ear. "All of _**us**_ are going to have to get along. Makes things interesting, doesn't it?"

Clara had had enough. She threw off Missy's arm and spun to face her, but she had the sinking feeling that was exactly what Missy wanted. She was right there, stepping into Clara's space, hauling her against her.

"Do you know the interesting thing about telepathic links?" the Time Lady asked her, pressing Clara's body into hers. The human shook her head determinedly, keeping her mouth strategically shut as Missy leaned in. She smiled against Clara's lips as their foreheads touched. "They have a tendency to linger," she whispered, closing her eyes as she gently pushed against Clara's mind.

Clara was subsumed beneath a wave of sensation before she could so much as cry out. But they weren't hers. They were Missy's.

The softness of her skin and the hard line of her jaw as Missy's red lips danced across it.

The feel of her own mouth as Missy licked her way inside, taking advantage of Clara's limp acquiescence. The wetness of her own tongue as it played obediently with Missy's.

The scorching heat of her human skin. Was that what it felt like whenever she hugged the Doctor? So much as touched him? No wonder he didn't like it…

_Oh, he likes it sweetheart. A little too much. Now, much as I find them fascinating, perhaps a little less fantasising about the Doctor and little more focus on me? Hmm?_

The words from Missy's mind fell into hers, as Clara gasped into their kiss. She was helpless against the onslaught of sensations, as she felt her own waist under Missy's hands, sliding down her hips, the feel of her own fingers sliding through Missy's hair, regaining a little control as she fulfilled the fantasy of tugging on the loosened locks that she'd had the moment she'd seen her new style.

She was delirious with lust when Missy abruptly pulled back, leaving her bereft as her mind retreated, and she gaped, panting. Missy smoothed her hair back into place with a flirtatious wink in Clara's direction as she walked away. "Your move, sweetheart," she called over her shoulder as she disappeared.

* * *

><p>As expected, Missy found the Doctor sulking in the library, curled up on one of the sofas dotted around the cavernous room, glaring at a shelf of books. "Oh, you're not sulking, are you?" she pouted as she sidled towards him, well aware that in the candlelight of the library, her blouse was transparent. The Doctor tensed at her voice, as she set herself on his lap primly. "Stop looking all cross pants. Don't want to be getting any <em><strong>more <strong>_wrinkles."

"Hah-bloody-hah," he muttered, and she sighed. With one hand, she tilted his head around and kissed him. Hard.

Her encounter with Clara had left her ready and wanting, and since she still couldn't have Clara, she would gladly have the Doctor instead. Of course, soon she'd have both but good things came to those who waited.

She didn't want Clara to succumb to her because she was so overwhelmed she had no other option. She could have had Clara then and there in the console room if she'd wished. But then she'd have had the tedious process of soothing the girl's moral heart attack afterwards and rebuilding the weak trust between them. No, it was far more fun, if frustrating, to watch her slow decline from the pedestal the Doctor had set her on for so long, and give in to her dark side.

But for now, she was more than content to press herself into her Doctor's arms as they came around her waist and pulled her into him. Abruptly, he sat up, bringing her with him as he undid the buttons of her blouse frantically.

"I know you're playing with Clara," he growled against her breastbone as she began to writhe against him. His mind pressed against hers willingly, and she let him in with a gasp. "You have to stop."

"Why?" she breathed, as his hand reached up and her hairstyle was wrecked for the second time that day. "It's what all of us want. I'm the only one trying to do anything about it."

The Doctor gasped as her mind presented him with image after image of the three of them, together, united in mind and body.

"I don't-" he tried to demur, but she hushed him with a kiss to his nose.

"Silly boy," she said fondly, stroking through his hair. "She's already thought about it. Already imagined it, in that deliciously devious mind of hers. She wants me, she wants you, she wants _**us**_. I want the pair of you too. And so do you, deep in your hearts. Now it's just time for you to accept that."

As their minds merged, the Doctor was left powerless to say anymore as Missy continued to bombard him with sensual fantasies about the three of them together. His hands worked at her clothing, and his at hers, until they were finally free of all constraints and she pushed him back against the sofa.

She was already aching and ready from before, and he thrust into her without delay, groaning against her at the warmth of her skin. He could smell traces of Clara on her, his Impossible Girl, her perfume combining with Missy's to drive him insane with wanting.

Their lips met as Missy sank against him and rolled her hips, stretched out along him like a very soft, very curvy blanket. Her hair fell around them in long curtains of coiled ringlets, and as their bodies joined effortlessly, he felt his mind pulled ever deeper into hers. Concern and worry dissipated as he experienced the aching pain of withdrawal and the joy of return as they made love.

He acknowledged the difference. In the console room, it had been sex. Pure, animalistic sex. And every time since.

Now, this…was making love. Free from her cutting comments or his frustrated brutality, the ghosts of their pasts held at bay, it felt right. There was one ghost present, of course. But he didn't mind this ghost.

In fact, even if he'd never admit it to her face, Missy was right. Possibly.

Missy's laughter echoed around the library as she intercepted that thought. He grimaced and moved against her harder, as she gasped as her climax grew. With an evil grin, ignoring his own lust, he took her weight and pressed her beneath him into the sofa cushions.

Missy had drawn back in surprise at their sudden change in position. The Doctor removed her hands from his hair and pressed them back into the cushions. She smirked at his grin. "See?" she gasped, panting. "I'm not the only who enjoys a bit of rough and tumble."

"Do you ever stop talking?" he asked in reply, taking her mouth again in lieu of a retort. He wasn't interested in talking anymore.

She reached for him again, but he pressed her wrists into the cushions warningly as he left her mouth, trailing devouring kisses down her neck as she arched, moaning. He teased her sensitive breasts with his tongue, refusing to give in to the temptation to move inside her, no matter how much she bucked her hips against him.

"She drives you insane, doesn't she?" he growled against her as he moved down her abdomen. "Welcome to my world."

He continued to tease her, drawing patterns on her stomach with his tongue, finally slipping out of her entirely, much to her disappointment as she communicated to him mentally. He grinned, promising her more if she would be patient. Her red nails gripped the cushions with a death hold, her red lips smudged and swollen, framed by black curls. She was beautiful and wild, like a jungle cat in his arms. And she was finally all his.

He finally reached his goal, sliding down between her legs and wedging them open with his shoulders. Her hearts sped up, as she moaned above him. He teased her by pressing a path of kisses down her thigh, relishing the soft, warm skin. "I'm going to write the alphabet on you with my tongue," he rasped, his voice reduced to a husky purr. "Until you come."

"Boring," she huffed out between pants. He raised his head, one impressive brow arched as her eyes widened. "Been there, done that. Human alphabets are so...inadequate."

"Whoever said anything about human alphabets?" he asked huskily, his Scottish accent getting deeper as his voice roughened. Her brows rose as his devilish smirk returned. "I meant the Gallifreyan alphabet."

He lowered his head without further comment, and luxuriated in her moans and screams as he did as he'd promised. She came, trembling beneath his tongue, before he'd even reached the forty-second letter. _Amateur_.

She mentally growled at that, fighting the lethargy in her limbs to sit up and pull him back atop her, sliding her legs around his hips to take him back inside her. She was overtly sensitive and shaking beneath him, so vulnerable and needy. It made him love her all the more.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


	9. Psychoanalysis

Series 9: What We Deserve

_**Warnings: dark themes, violence, torture, m/f, f/f & m/f/f relationships, explicit scenes.**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did**__**…**__**damn you, Moffat!**_

_**Summary: Clara and Missy continue their chess match and discuss psychology. Clara hears the voices inside her head again.**_

_**A/N: Ok, so this is a more Clara x Missy centric chapter. But Twissy will be back next chapter!**_

* * *

><p>Clara was insane. She knew it, she had to be. There was no other explanation for why she was sitting in the library, opposite the one woman in all of creation she could honestly say she hated with a passion.<p>

On the other side of a chess board. _Again_.

And that was the problem. For whatever screwed up, FUBAR-ed reason, she wanted Missy. She hated her and she wanted her. Amazingly enough, that little voice in her head that sounded suspiciously like her former headmaster was silent as the grave. She was passionately in hate with the woman. She wondered if this was how the Doctor felt.

She didn't fully understand what game Missy was playing. But then, how to understand a mind like hers? The brief glimpses she'd been given weren't exactly elucidating.

She understood why Missy had become the person she was. But she didn't understand why she was playing with her. Why not the Doctor?

A mental image of the two of them, entwined on the console, flashed through her mind and she sighed. No need to play when the game was already over.

She wondered, why her? Yeah, Missy might have been fulfilling a self-fulfilling paradox when she spotted her on Gallifrey during the Time War, but that didn't explain why she chose her specifically. She could have gone to Earth and chosen any girl really. It would have still been the same outcome. Or would it?

Clara decided she really hated temporal physics.

It also didn't explain why _**her**_ now. Missy despised and hated humanity, saw them as little more than apes to be tortured and exterminated at her pleasure, toys in her continuous battles with the Doctor. She would never have lowered herself to touch one of them unless there was some strategic value involved, such as with Lucy Saxon. What strategic value was there in seducing Clara?

The sane thing to do would have been to keep away. Refuse to play. Or better yet, talk to the Doctor about it and find a way to stop it. But Clara had felt nothing but numbness since Danny's death and the brief spats of emotion were usually unpleasantly negative. The only time she felt alive anymore was when she was with the Doctor…or Missy. The woman belittled her, challenged her, exhilarated her even as she continued to hate her with every cell in her body. _It's like baiting a snake. Every dodged attack makes you feel more alive than ever, but eventually you'll get bitten. And it'll almost feel good to be bitten. _

The thought washed through Clara as she met the devilish gleam in the eyes of the woman opposite her. The sane thing would have been to run away. She had nowhere to run. The sensible thing would have been to shut her down. Clara had decided some time ago she'd never had much sense or sanity. Not anymore, came of being split into a thousand different echoes of herself. No, she would play and she would fight. There was no alternative. Retreat had never been in her nature.

And if not letting Missy win whatever twisted little game she'd concocted, meant winning it instead, well Clara had no problem making that sacrifice. Exactly why she didn't mind, she refused to examine.

"What are you thinking of, my Clara?" Missy's soft question pulled her from her thoughts completely, as she tensed in her chair.

"Can't you tell?" she replied archly, folding her arms as she watched Missy contemplate the board. It appeared she actually managed to pose a challenge to the Time Lady this time, as it had been several minutes since Clara's last move. She didn't want to feel the thrill down her nerves at the thought. "Read my thoughts, I mean?"

"The telepathic bond fades over time if it is not reinforced regularly," Missy explained, finally reaching out a hand and moving her knight. Clara moved her bishop in response, and sighed. Damn.

Missy's grin was wicked as she took Clara's bishop and moved into check. Clara cursed herself and eyed the board, thinking fast. With a grin, she managed to manoeuvre out of danger.

"You're getting better," her opponent sighed.

"Don't compliment me, it makes me queasy," Clara quipped, as Missy rolled her eyes, sitting back in her chair to think about her next move. One red nail tapped against her chin, a four-beat rhythm. "What is that rhythm? I've heard you tapping it out before, almost subconsciously…" she asked, curious despite herself.

"Oh, this?" Missy lowered her hand, and for a moment Clara almost thought she was uncomfortable about her seeing it. "A remnant of the signal embedded into my mind when I was a child. I'm sure the Doctor has explained about that."

Clara nodded. "Did they remove it? The Time Lords?"

"At this point in my timeline, yes. Being stuck in another dimension meant retroactive removal was impossible and they would have refused to do it anyway. Messing too much with the established timeline, apparently. The process was not without its side-effects as you've noticed," Missy nodded, her face pinched and haunted, her eyes avoiding Clara.

She leaned back in her chair, folding her arms as Missy glanced up at her. "What?" she demanded abruptly, her eyes fixed intently on Clara's face. In many ways, she reminded Clara of a needy child, desperate for every scrap of attention, negative or positive.

"I was just trying to work out if you answered my question because you wanted me to know," she replied truthfully. They were far beyond dancing around the bush with one another.

Missy chuckled at that. "I always have an agenda, sweetheart. That's half the fun of it all."

Clara rolled her eyes and snorted derisively. "Must be exhausting, always trying to manipulate everyone and everything around you," she murmured, thoughtfully. "Don't you ever just want to stop and just…_be_?"

Missy laughed full out at that one, tipping her head back and exposing the long graceful column of her throat. The puncture wound from the dart had long healed and it was once more perfect. Clara tamped down the urge to lean over the chess set and set her lips to it.

"How boring," was all Missy's reply, as she made her next move. Now it was Clara's turn to think. "You never answered my question, you know."

"Yes, I did," Clara muttered, frowning slightly. After a moment, her brow smoothed out and she made her move, taking Missy's knight and a pawn. The group of white pieces on Missy's side was considerably bigger than Clara's black pile, but she was catching up.

"No, before that," Missy purred, with a knowing smirk. Clara eyed her narrowly. She had no intention of voicing her earlier thoughts. Casting around for another topic to divert her, she seized on a thought that suddenly occurred to her as their conversation replayed in her mind.

"I suppose…" she trailed off, noting the expectant glint in Missy's eyes. "I was wondering if the reason why you try to manipulate everyone and everything all the time, was because the same was once done to you. Multiple times."

At that, Missy almost looked shocked, stunned by her audacity. Clara mentally congratulated herself on winning a point, not caring about the darkness brewing in her opponent's eyes. After a moment, a slow, cruel smile appeared on her red lips and she relaxed, her predatory tension gone. For now.

"Oh my Clara," she practically purred, and Clara fought to ignore her shiver. "Now who's trying to manipulate the situation? I asked a discomfiting question and you introduce an…unpleasant topic to evade my question and goad my temper in the hope I'll forget it. Audacious, if foolish."

Clara promptly lost her last knight and bishop. Her king was open to attack and her queen isolated. It took all her logic to see a way out. "Is it an unpleasant topic? I thought you didn't care anymore."

"What do you think?" the Time Lady replied coolly, looking at Clara like she wanted to kill her. Or eat her.

_Idiot, idiot, idiot! _Clara's mind was chanting warningly, but as always, her newfound recklessness urged her on. "I think you've been punishing us. Humanity. Punishing us because of what Ailla did to you. For not being one of us, for tricking you, for making you believe we were actually of some worth in the universe. For making you believe you could care for a lesser being. And you've been punishing us ever since."

"Well, thank you for that psychoanalysis, Fraulein Freud, but might I suggest you stick to the English literature? Your professional future clearly doesn't lie in the field of psychology," Missy finally said, after a long silence, her voice caustic and angry. Clara just smiled.

"Psychology would tell me that that fact you're so angry, and so vehement, in denying my analysis is that I'm right or close to it," she countered, as Missy leaned forward and finally Clara's instincts took over. _Danger_.

"And basic psychology would tell me that your attempts at evading my question are hiding thoughts you'd rather I didn't discover," she retorted, slow and enunciating each word with a cruel precision. Clara mentally flinched as the Time Lady's hand hovered over her queen, before it descended and moved the piece. "Checkmate."

Clara recognised her defeat in Missy's eyes as the Time Lady began to stand. Her words from their previous encounter washed over her, making her move. _Your move, sweetheart…_

* * *

><p>Before she had too much time to think, Clara was up and out of her seat. She skirted around the chess board and the table it sat on, and pinned Missy in her chair. Her eyes were wide with a kind of shocked appreciation as Clara knelt astride her, her knees bracketing Missy's thighs. She clasped her face between her hands, wondering if she'd cut herself on the sharp slash of cheekbones under her palms, and kissed her.<p>

Missy's mouth was cool and wet, like kissing a mountain spring, and when the Time Lady's hands shot up to grip her waist, it turned desperate and heated, and everything Clara had denied craving to herself since their last interlude. She slid her hands into Missy's long curls, now regularly worn free down her back, and couldn't resist rocking her hips just a little bit. She felt a nudging sensation in her mind, and without another thought, Clara let her into her mind.

It was insane and dangerous, and a few weeks ago Clara would have laughed at the thought of letting the Mistress into her head. But she was so far gone, drunk on the sensations of Missy's hair between her fingers, Missy's curves pressing against her own and Missy's tongue teasing hers, that the thought never even entered her mind. Minds joined, the pleasure intensified and all thought of game-playing or trying to one-up each other dissipated. Clara could feel everything Missy did, and more, realising just how much more sensitive Gallifreyan bodies were to the senses. Clara was like a burning flame against Missy's skin, her mind like a single discordant note against the melody of the Time Lady's.

She let her hands wander freely now, running them over soft linen, the hard boning of Missy's corset digging into her palms. She struggled to ignore the slender hands roaming her own body, one curving over her bottom to pull her ever tighter against the Time Lady. Clara ran one hand down over her breast, feeling her sharp intake of breath. Missy's legs shifted beneath her impatiently, but Clara held her fast, imprisoned by her knees. With a thrill, Clara realised she had the upper hand now.

She broke the kiss, lungs screaming for air, and ducked her head to Missy's neck. The collar of her shirt was high, but Clara had no intention of letting things get so out of hand that they'd actually get to the taking off clothes part. She settled for tipping her captive's head back by the chin, rasping her tongue and teeth over the sensitive skin just under her jaw.

Missy huffed out a laugh. _Well, this is unexpected…_

Clara wasn't sure she could reply telepathically, so she just used the good ol' fashioned way. "You did say it was_**my **_move…"

Missy's hand in her hair turned grasping, and Clara had no choice but to raise her head and bring her lips back to Missy's, the thrill of feeling Missy's double heartbeat pounding because of her intoxicating her beyond reason.

* * *

><p>That was when it hit.<p>

The singing that had been dormant for so long exploded in her head, and she scrambled off of Missy with the last ounce of strength she possessed. She clutched her head, panting, as it intensified in all its gentle cruelty, and she felt the gorge rise in her throat. She wanted to be sick.

"Clara…?" Missy was there, hands on her back and arm, trying to turn her around. Panic rushed through her, and she wriggled free, rushing away as fast as she could. She didn't want _**her **_to see her like this, she didn't want anyone to see her like this. She just needed to get away.

The last thing Clara was aware of, before her mind finally gave up the fight and collapsed, was the cold metal of the gantry and warm hands gripping her supportively as she was lifted into strong, slender arms.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued…<em>


	10. In Vino, Veritas

Series 9: What We Deserve

_**Warnings: dark themes, violence, torture, m/f, f/f & m/f/f relationships, explicit scenes.**_

_**Disclaimer: I own nothing. If I did**__**…**__**damn you, Moffat!**_

_**Summary: The Trio land in their second universe. The Time Lord and Lady get drunk and Clara must deal with a number of drunken revelations.**_

* * *

><p>Missy had the rather irritating suspicion that little Miss Control Freak was trying to avoid her.<p>

A ridiculous notion. As if a silly human was capable of evading _her_, the Mistress, perpetrator of chaos throughout the universe.

Some might have suggested that her irritation masked a concern for the young human woman. Missy would have laughed scornfully before blasting them in perdition with her disintegrator, if she still had it.

The fact was, however, that Missy _was _concerned. Things had been progressing so very nicely, in the library, when she had pulled away, both mentally and physically. Missy had only the barest millisecond, but she'd caught a faint echo of whatever had caused Clara such agony that she had collapsed. That singing, a haunting, solo voice. Hardly migraine-causing, in her estimation, but it had clearly been agonising for the human.

Anyone else might have written it off as a lingering side-effect of her grief, or a sign of looming insanity, but Missy had lived with the drums inside her head too long not to recognise it for what it was. A signal, a call.

But a call to what? Missy didn't know and she didn't appreciate not knowing. She also didn't appreciate her human avoiding her and making the whole tedious process that much more difficult. She was fairly certain the Tardis was helping Clara evade her too. _Obsolete old bucket of rust._

The console hummed and whined censoriously under her fingertips as she narrowed her eyes at it. She let her mind vividly picture flying the Tardis into a supernova, snickering as the time machine whirred and groaned in a sulk. But she still wouldn't let her find Clara.

In the meantime, she pondered what to do. If the foolish girl wouldn't _**let **_her help her, then she had no choice but to _**force **_it upon her. Her Impossible Girl was no good to her if she became a dribbling wreck of a being, driven insane until she was no longer able to function. But to tell the Doctor of it might drive Clara from her in the meantime and destroy what little progress she had made with her. Whatever, her little game would be well and truly over if Clara descended into complete madness, and she would lose her Doctor to boot. He would never forgive her if his Impossible Girl was driven to lunacy and he discovered she'd known of it earlier.

She waited for him to return to the console room, mind racing as she calculated all the possible scenarios of confiding in her oldest friend and lover, testing each outcome meticulously to determine the risks and rewards. For all her love of showing off, she was a careful strategist. But no strategy was without risk.

So when she felt him step up to the gantry behind her, she waited with a small smile.

He was burdened with his toolbox, his coat flung aside on the gantry railing, his waistcoat open and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He often took the time to do vital maintenance work on the Tardis while they floated through the Void. They only had a few hours until they materialised in the next universe on their journey.

Missy had noticed a few interesting snippets of information after they had become lovers once more. No 1: While not a great lover of hugs, he could be perfectly tactile with other forms of physical affection. No 2: he loved her hair, especially when she wore it down. No 3: he had as much an affinity for neck kissing and biting as she had a liking for them, which was why she'd strategically rearranged her collar and blouse so her throat was bare to his perusal. The poor dear, he really was quite predictable.

The Tardis chose that exact moment to send a hail of sparks down on her head and she shrieked, in a manner most unbecoming of the Mistress of all evil, and jumped back with an evil glare at the reprobate tinpot. "Infernal machine!" she hissed.

The Doctor glanced at her and chuckled, setting down his toolbox with a sigh. "I told you, she doesn't like you," he muttered, as she turned to him with a sad expression he wasn't buying for an attosecond.

"But you like me, don't you?" she pouted childishly, as he sighed and shrugged. At her crestfallen expression as she turned away from him, he stepped close to her, loosely slinging his arms around her tiny waist and inhaling the perfume of her hair. He'd never tell her even if threatened with execution via Dalek, but he loved her hair down.

"Rassilon knows why," he sighed exasperatedly, pressing a kiss to her bared neck. She shivered, giving up her mock-insulted tension, and sank into his arms. Quickly glancing up to check Clara wasn't nearby, the Doctor kissed her again, trailing his lips up her throat yearningly. One of her hands crept up to just gently rake her nails over the nape of his neck, making him shiver this time. "Behave…" he breathed warningly.

"Never," she smirked wickedly up at him, baring her teeth in a feral grin. Despite everything in his brain that said he should run from that smile, run for his life, he was only drawn to it more. He leant down and kissed her, fierce and desirous, feeling her moan against his lips. She tasted of tea and home and something else, something vaguely familiar, a new note underneath the familiar flavour of his old friend.

It came to him in a flash, shocking him out of his infernal hormone-induced state of lust, as he stared down at her. A memory, of gangly limbs barely knowing what they were doing, bowties and fezzes and raging grief at a universe that didn't care, of scorching hot lips pressed against his, of a corseted waist and soft brown hair escaping from a bun, of fierce, defiant, tear-filled eyes and a family crying on Christmas Eve.

He knew where that new taste had come from, in the Mistress's mouth. He broke away from her with a growl, glaring at her angrily. "What have you been doing to Clara?" he snarled, as she looked at him innocently, her glorious hair mussed by their interrupted passion. "I can taste her when I kissed you!"

"Already had that delight, have you?" Missy purred, her wicked smile returning. "She does taste quite delicious."

"You leave her alone, you hear me?" he snapped, terrified at the thought of what Missy was doing to his Impossible Girl. "Whatever game you're playing, stop it now!"

"Oh, Doctor," Missy sighed, stepping close to him once more and wrapping him in the cocoon of her arms. He hissed in a sharp breath at the feel of her body against his. "What if she doesn't want to stop? Would you be jealous?"

He was paralysed as she tilted herself up on her toes to whisper in his ear. "Or would you like to watch, one day? Maybe even join in?"

He growled, taking her by the arms and shaking her threateningly, but Missy just laughed, tilting her head back. She laughed, mad and unhinged and exhilarated as ever by pushing his buttons, and before he could process the fact he found his body thrilling to that sound, they were kissing again. Hard and passionate, an argument carried out in physical actions rather than words. He let himself sink against her with a moan again, and she raked her nails through his scalp.

"Incidentally," she gasped, pulling back abruptly, her eyes almost black with arousal. "Before things get out of hand, there's something we need to discuss. About Clara."

"Cheeky lass. If things are getting out of hand, it's _**your**_ fault…" he trailed off indignantly, as the last part of that sentence caught up with his brain. Or was it the other way around? He frowned direfully down at her, shocked to see there was no malicious calculation in her eyes at all, but something too foreign and so un Missy-ish to be believed. "What about Clara?"

So she told him. And he didn't like it one bit.

* * *

><p>The <em>clang <em>of the Tardis engines as she landed awoke Clara from her long nap. In the days since her collapse and waking up in her bed, there'd not been much else to do since she'd taken to wandering around the Tardis. Using every ounce of skill and know-how, garnered from times she'd snuck out of the house when a teenager, in evading the one person she never wanted to see her weak.

She didn't mind the Doctor seeing her vulnerable. God knew, by now he'd seen her like that far too many times. It only brought them closer.

But Missy…Clara had not forgotten who she was. Despite their game, and her irritating passion for the woman, she had not forgotten who Missy was. She would never make the mistake of letting the Time Lady see a weakness she could exploit. At least, not willingly.

She'd been surprised not to find her waiting by her bedside, prepared to pounce, when she came to after fainting. She managed to escape when she heard the all-too familiar sound of high-heeled bootsteps in the corridor. She had a sneaking suspicion the Tardis had been giving her a little helping hand with that too.

The singing hadn't returned again, and Clara was grateful. It was pure agony practically every time, and she was relieved it seemed to be on a little hiatus. Her head was screwed up enough as it was.

But that clanging sound meant they'd landed somewhere, and she had to face her Time Lords sometime. She only hoped that Missy had the brain cells to keep it to herself and not involve the Doctor. He had enough to worry about.

A part of Clara felt bad about keeping the Doctor in the dark. Friends didn't lie to one another. Best friends certainly didn't. Did they?

But then Clara wasn't entirely sure what _**they **_were anymore. She'd been speaking the truth when she told a Cyberfied Danny he was the most important man in the world to her. But she had betrayed him, threatened to destroy his life if he didn't help her assuage her guilt and rage over Danny's death. He had hurt her, wounded her deeply, when he abandoned her to decide whether to kill the Moon or the Earth. But what did that leave them?

As Clara finished getting dressed, in sensible boots rather than heels this time, her favourite dress and a leather jacket, she forced such thoughts away. Whatever they were, he was the Doctor and she was his Impossible Girl. That had to be enough.

As she entered the console room, she was relieved to see the warm smile on the Doctor's aged face at the sight of her. For a moment, she didn't notice the presence of Missy in the background, leaning insouciantly against the railing, hair swept up and long coat back on. Clara met her gaze and swiftly looked away.

"We've landed," the Doctor announced unnecessarily. "Atmosphere's breathable. A bit chilly, probably early October, and we're on a continent that looks nothing like Europe. Let's go have a look!"

The Doctor bounded out the doors first, mindful of their last jaunt onto an alternate Earth. Clara went to follow, wanting to get away from Missy's intrusive glare, when a familiar cold hand clasped her arm.

"You've been avoiding me, my Clara," she hissed against her ear. Clara stiffened but refused to look back at her.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realise I was supposed to constantly seek out the company of the lunatic who tried to destroy my home," she replied, proud of the cool steadiness in her voice.

"You were more than enjoying my company in the library, sweetheart," came the reply, hushed and seductive, accompanied by the feeling of lips against her ear. Clara wrested her arm away and spun to face her, determined to grab the initiative before this got out of hand.

Again.

"Touched a nerve, did I?" she retorted, noting the annoyed tone in Missy's voice. The Time Lady forced a smile, bending her head to just brush her lips against Clara's. Damningly, Clara shuddered and her lips parted.

"Oh no, sweetheart," the Time Lady purred. "But I was concerned by the little…_incident_. I think you know what I mean."

Clara folded her arms, and if looks could kill, Missy would have used up her latest regenerative cycle within seconds. The Time Lady just chuckled.

"Shall I give you a little reminder? Crying, scrunching your face up in apparent agony whilst collapsing into my arms? Ring a bell?" she continued, folding her arms in mocking imitation of Clara.

"I didn't start crying," Clara muttered sullenly, before her tone turned cold. "Tell the Doctor and I'll kill you."

She patted her pocket, which permanently housed Missy's disintegrator, and smiled icily. To her internal dismay, Missy didn't waver, her smile only grew bigger as she leaned in.

"Oh, sweetheart," she purred. "You do like to keep things interesting. This'll be fun!"

She pressed her lips to Clara's in a brief, fiery but unsatisfying kiss before the human could think up a retort. She was gone just as quickly, leaving Clara aghast and unsettled as the Doctor called to her.

"Eh! What are you two doing, plotting world domination?! Get a move on!"

* * *

><p>It was absolutely freezing outside, as Clara glanced at the Doctor incredulously. "A bit chilly?" she asked caustically, pulling her jacket tighter around herself.<p>

"Humans," he scoffed in retort, the small smile at his mouth reassuring her he didn't mean it. Clara flicked him with her fingers as she passed him, pointedly ignoring Missy in the process. She didn't see a worried look replace the warmth in his eyes as he stared at her back.

Unlike the first alternate Earth they'd landed on, this one was pleasant in comparison. They were parked on a lonely moor, grass iced over in the cool air, barely any sign of civilisation for miles. Compared to the bleakness of the first Earth, this one looked like a paradise.

Until Clara spotted the group of figures galloping towards them on horseback. "Uh oh," she muttered, as the Doctor and Missy rushed to her side. "We've got company."

Despite it all, Clara couldn't help but smile when she felt the Doctor move, placing himself between danger and his companions. Considering what happened last time they ventured into an alternate Earth, it wasn't surprising. Surly and caustic he might be, but he was still very much her Doctor.

To her surprise, she felt Missy draw closer, almost edging in front of her slightly, almost…protectively. Now, that _was _unexpected. And clearly unconsciously done, on Missy's part, since her icy eyes were fixed with laser-beam intensity on the approaching horsemen.

Clara didn't feel any fear, watching the minute figures on horses drawing closer. She was with two immensely powerful alien beings, and she wasn't unarmed herself. The weight of Missy's disintegrator was heavy in her pocket.

"We should return to the Tardis," Missy hissed out the corner of her mouth. "Unless you fancy being the one stung by a toxic dart this time?"

"Not particularly, thank you," the Doctor muttered back. "C'mon! Where's your sense of adventure? They might be friendly…"

"Over 2000 years old, and you're still disgustingly optimistic," Missy snorted in disgust. Nevertheless, they stood and waited, Clara shivering from a mixture of anticipation and cold. But not fear. It'd been a long time since she'd really felt fear.

The horsemen reached them, and they all dismounted. They were dressed in animal furs and leathers, wicked-looking daggers at their sides, bows and quivers at their backs. They were all male, bearded and weather-beaten, and Clara wondered if they were a hunting party of some sort.

The leader, a towering redhead wearing what looked like a wolfskin draped over his shoulders, stepped forward. He pointed to them, then to the Tardis, and began speaking in a guttural language Clara had never heard before.

She frowned. Were the Tardis translation circuits malfunctioning?

She glanced to the Doctor, whose face was tight with concentration. "Give her a minute," he muttered out the corner of his mouth. "Alternate universe and all that. It'll take her a few minutes."

"It sounds like a combination of Gaelic, early Celtic and Latin but with absolutely none of the appropriate syntax or grammar," Missy added, not giving up her position beside Clara.

"Alternate universe," Clara breathed. "Language could have developed differently here."

Abruptly, the guttural words turned into coherent sentences. "We welcome you, my lord and ladies, emissaries of the Netherworld-"

"They must have seen the Tardis materialising," the Doctor said quietly, not relaxing one iota.

Clara's eyes widened as the entire group suddenly dropped to their knees, not daring to meet the gazes of the three travellers. "They think we're gods?"

Missy's lips curled into a devilish smirk, and the Doctor growled. "Don't you dare!" he hissed, but she ignored him.

"Oh, Doctor. Have a little fun, why don't you?" she purred, stepping forward and reaching her arms out, as if in benediction. "My children…"

The Doctor sighed in exasperation as Missy touched her hands to the humans' heads gently, like an earth mother greeting her children. "Trust you."

"We're stuck here for a week anyway," Missy turned back to them, pouting, as the men apparently fawned over her boots, awestruck. "I promise I won't let them sacrifice ickle Clara here."

"OI!" Clara snapped irritably. The Doctor sighed but the men were already looking to him with fearful looks.

"Fine," he muttered grouchily. "But no sacrifices! And no proclaiming you…Queen of the world or whatever."

Missy smiled beatifically, before turning back to her adoring, captive audience. "We desire rest and shelter in exchange for gracing us with your presence. Come!"

Clara rolled her eyes as the men practically jumped to attention, scrambling around to accommodate the undeniable command in Missy's soft tones. She was acting the loving, if slightly manic, mother goddess and it made Clara want to laugh hysterically.

Missy caught her eye and winked.

Clara's lips were twitching treacherously when three horses were brought forward, and her smile fell. A motorbike was one thing, but a horse…

The Doctor mounted as if born to the saddle, with a disapproving glare in Missy's direction. He noticed Clara, pale as milk and uncertain while one of the men brandished the reins at her eagerly. "Clara?"

"I can't ride. Seriously, I don't know how to ride one of those things," she hissed frantically, eyes wide with panic. The horse, a handsome bay, champed at its bit and whinnied impatiently, breath a mist in the cold air. Missy laughed.

"This one rides with me," she announced to the leader, before grabbing Clara's hand. "I can't believe you've never ridden before."

"Me and horses. Not a good mix," Clara gulped, as she was suddenly ten times closer to a horse than she'd ever wanted to be.

"What? Not even a donkey ride along Blackpool beach?" the Doctor asked incredulously, as she glared at him. He looked annoyingly amused at her discomfort, as she felt Missy draw close to her.

"I'll just walk, I think. Or run, I'm pretty fit at the moment," Clara was babbling like an idiot and she knew she was babbling. All the men were staring at her, and she imagined she wasn't acting very goddess-like. Well, screw that. She wasn't doing it.

Suddenly she was lifted into the air by two very strong, very slender hands. Caught off-guard, Clara grabbed the saddle as she was thrown up. It took all her strength not to fall straight off again over the other side, but she held on. Just.

With a spluttered curse, her eyes snapped to Missy, standing beside the horse and looking disgustingly triumphant and smug. With barely a bend of her knees, she pulled herself up too, settling herself in the saddle and apparently not caring her skirts rode up to her knees, exposing her boots. Clara felt awfully self-conscious in her shorter skirt and tights, and her thighs were already aching. Then Missy made everything a hundred times worse by slipping an arm around Clara's waist and pressing against her tightly. She controlled the horse expertly with one hand on the reins. "There. Not so hard, was it?" she purred in her ear, and Clara was torn between a desire to shove her off the horse and a desire to ignore her entirely. Shoving her off, while satisfying, would have meant she was left to control the animal on her own however, and that she wasn't sure she could handle.

She caught the Doctor's eye, and saw the ill-concealed amusement in his stormy eyes. She glared pointedly, and he snickered.

"Now, just relax, sweetheart," Missy continued to whisper in her ear, as the hunting party mounted and made ready to move off. "Otherwise your thighs are going to feel like jelly later. Pulverised jelly that's gone ten rounds with fifteen Mike Tysons and Muhammad Alis. Apiece."

"You try relaxing on a wild animal that could go nuts at any moment!" Clara snarled under her breath.

"I'm the Mistress," was all her reply. "I'm in full control of this animal. Now do stop squawking, sweetheart, and enjoy the ride."

* * *

><p>To her slight surprise, Clara did.<p>

Once she got the hang of the rhythm, of letting her hips sway with the movement of the horse, it actually became quite fun. Until Missy pushed the horse on into gallop just to terrify her. She was sure of it. The amused chuckle against her ear convinced her.

Clara found herself envying the Mistress's easy grace and skill with the horse, however. The way she moved with the stride of the horse spoke of an innate comfort that Clara didn't think she'd ever learn. As she glanced sideways at the Doctor, she noted that same ease, that same grace he largely lacked on the ground. Well, that wasn't entirely true. He was perfectly graceful when he wasn't trying to run.

After riding on the moors for what felt like hours, they crested a small rise and down the other side, to a large village comprised of canvas and animal hide tents. Smoke trailed up from vents in the top of the tents, and Clara could smell cooking meat. She'd only eaten a banana when she woke up this morning, and her mouth was watering.

The hunting party cantered into a large clearing in the centre of the tents, and crowds of men, women and children, all dressed in the same furs and leathers, came to gawp at the newcomers.

Clara slid off the horse first, and instantly reconsidered her slightly favourable opinion about horse riding. She hated it!

Her thighs nearly buckled underneath her, and every muscle was starting to complain. Loudly and vigorously.

Missy hopped off beside her and caught her around the waist, giving her support as Clara tried to get her legs to work again. She glared at the animal beside them. "I hate you," she hissed. The horse swished its tail, unimpressed.

Missy chuckled. "You'll get used to it," she whispered, as the Doctor came to their side, brow furrowed in concern.

"Alright there, Clara?" he asked quietly. Clara nodded, just as the leader of the hunting party started shouting his mouth off about gods and messages from the heavens. Missy stepped forward, clearly in her element, as the Doctor and Clara exchanged uneasy glances.

* * *

><p>Clara's unease was well-founded, as it turned out. She just never expected to have to deal with not one but <em><strong>two<strong>_drunk, off-their-heads Time Lords.

The villagers had put on quite the feast for the three of them, and after Clara had got over her slight guilt about pretending to be a goddess, she'd enjoyed herself. But apparently, not as much as the Doctor and Missy.

She'd been careful about the wine, only taking a few sips and not making it past two cups of the stuff. Missy had teased and taunted the Doctor, and had ended up in some kind of ritual drinking contest. Naturally, the Doctor had jumped to the challenge, slightly inebriated as he already was.

"Like bloody kids. Always trying to one-up each other," she muttered under her breath. She was currently fighting not to buckle under the combined weight of two Gallifreyans leaning on her. "Can't get drunk my foot!"

"'M not drunk!" someone slurred from under her arm. "Gallifreyan…whatsit. Better than you human lot!"

"Oh, honey. Yurrr so elo-elur-…." Missy dissolved into giggles, and the trio wobbled precariously.

"How much did you two drink exactly?" Clara huffed. "I lost count after the fifth barrel of mead."

"Twenty-something'…I think," the Time Lady slurred.

"Lightweight," the Doctor muttered, which apparently was enough to send them both into fits of giggles again. Clara was sore and tired, and the wine she'd drunk was making this all feel like way too much effort. If it weren't for the fact she'd probably wake up to two disorientated, newly regenerated Gallifreyans in the morning, she'd have dropped them and left them out in the cold.

The villagers weren't even any help. Most of them were either still drinking or paralytic in the feasting tent.

Clara grit her teeth and carried on.

* * *

><p>Finally, their tent came into view and Clara heaved a sigh of relief. Inside, it was warm and cosy, a small closed lantern hanging from the central post, their feet protected from the frozen ground by furs. She hated fur but it seemed these people hadn't discovered synthetic fabrics quite yet.<p>

Waiting for them was a large bed piled high with blankets and pillows. Brows raised, Clara didn't have time to ponder it, because at that exact moment the Doctor's feet got tangled up in the furs and he toppled, taking Clara and Missy with him. The Gallifreyans were giggling like children, and Clara really just wanted to go to bed.

"Naughty, naughty Imp'ssible Girlll!" the Doctor slurred, grabbing her arm and pulling her close to him. Even drunk, he was still gentle. "I…I know you not been telling me…stuff."

Clara went cold at that, and she glared at Missy, who just shrugged and cackled. She was going to kill her tomorrow.

"Look, Doctor…" she began wearily, but he waved his hand about floppily, nearing smacking Missy in the face at the same time.

"I taught yer too well," he continued, his Scottish burr becoming more pronounced with every word. "Too good at lyin'. Yer me perfect girl, me Impossible Girl, and I'm turnin' yer into…me."

"OOOH, dibs!" Missy decided to shriek out beside them, before retreating to her maniacal cackle. Clara tried to get up, but the Doctor's hold on her prevented it.

"I want yer, my Clara. Want yer both, me Mistress and me Impossible Girl," he continued to slur, and for one wild second, Clara thought he was going to try to kiss her.

Suddenly, he went cross-eyed and collapsed beside her. Clara blinked, and was greeted by a loud snore into the pillows beside her.

A slender hand suddenly started tracing up her waist, and she was abruptly face-to-face with Missy with an unhinged gleam in her eye and a wicked smirk. Her breath reeked of alcohol. "Lightweight," she snorted at the Doctor. "Pity. Think he was up for a threesome. So was I."

"There isn't going to be a threesome," Clara replied firmly, sitting up as much as she could. It was like trying to corral a classroom of five-year-olds, but with sex involved. She ignored the racing heart and the sudden rush of arousal at the mental image of them together, _**that**_ she was not going into tonight. Not with sore thighs, a backache and now a headache blooming behind her eyes. "And I am going to kill you tomorrow."

"Promises, promises," Missy drawled, leaning in and shoving Clara back down onto the pillows. She crushed their mouths together forcefully, and Clara sighed. She gave in for a moment, before Missy broke away from her mouth to plant sloppy kisses down Clara's blouse until she reached her stomach.

Clara frowned as Missy stopped there, and then apparently became a dead weight. "Er, Missy? Missy?" she shook her gently, extricating one hand. Her reply was a loud, distinctly feminine snore this time. "Great. Just wonderful."

With a sigh, Clara kicked off her boots and tried her best to settle down for a night of being used as a mattress by one psychotic Time Lady with delusions of grandeur, and a headrest by a Time Lord with a hero complex. The Doctor's arm, curled underneath her back, shifted until his hand was gripping her shoulder, while Missy shifted atop her. Clara opened her legs to avoid a case of dead leg in the morning, and despite herself, relished the warm embrace she was cocooned in, as the Doctor's hand tightened around her shoulder and Missy's head burrowed into her stomach. Swearing she would deny all knowledge in the morning, and still carry out her promise to kill Missy, she buried one hand in Missy's dishevelled curls, and nuzzled into the Doctor.

There had been a lot of interesting revelations tonight. In vino, veritas, clearly. But Clara was far too tired to sort through them now. And surprisingly comfy and warm. No, tomorrow after she murdered Missy and made it look like an accident.

* * *

><p><em>To be continued...<em>


End file.
